THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

JIM  TULLY 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.  JIM  TULLY 


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ELLANGOWAN      CASTLE 


THE   HARVARD   CLASSICS 

SHELF     OF     FICTION 

SELECTED   BY  CHARLES   W   ELIOT  LL  D 


GUY  MANNERING 


BY 
SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 


EDITED  WITH   NOTES   AND  INTRODUCTIONS 
BY  WILLIAM  ALLAN   NEILSON   Ph  D 


P  F  COLLIER  &■  SON 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,    191 7 
By  P.  F.  Collier  &  Son 


"FN 


vi) 


CONTENTS 

GUY   MANNERING,  OR   THE   ASTROLOGER 

PAGE 

BiQGRAPHICAL    NOTE i'i 

Criticisms  and  Interpretations  : 

I.     By  Thomas   Carlyle vii 

II.     By   Richard   Holt   Hutton ix 

III.  Carlyle  on  the  Waverley  Novels xi 

IV.  Richard  Holt  Hutton  on  Scott's  Women   .      .      .  xiii 
V.     Walter  Bagehot  on  the  Waverley  Novels  .      .      .  xiv 

VI.     RusKiN  on   Scott's  Women xix 

List    of   Characters xxi 

Introduction  to  Guy  Mannering i 

Additional    Note '9 

Chapter  I 25 

Chapter  II 31 

Chapter  HI 39 

Chapter  IV 47 

Chapter  V 56 

Chapter  VI 62 

Chapter  VII          68 

Chapter  VHI 74 

Chapter  IX 81 

Chapter  X 92 

Chapter  XI loi 

Chapter  XII          >  J  i 

Chapter  XIII I'S 

Chapter  XIV i-M 

Chapter  XV          130 

Chapter  XVI 136 

Chapter  XVII 140 

Chapter  XVIH MS 

Chapter  XIX 152 

Chapter  XX ^57 

Chapter   XXI '63 

Chapter  XXII 169 

Chapter  XXIII i77 

i 

D— I 


8241)97 


ii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Chapter  XXIV jge 

Chapter  XXV joo 

Chapter  XXVI jg5 

Chapter  XXVII         2q. 

Chapter  XXVIII .      .  212 

Chapter  XXIX 222 

Chapter  XXX 228 

Chapter  XXXI 232 

Chapter  XXXII         ■^236 

Chapter  XXXIII 247 

Chapter  XXXIV ...  257 

Chapter  XXXV 268 

Chapter  XXXVI 277 

Chapter  XXXVII 289 

Chapter  XXXVIII 300 

Chapter  XXXIX 310 

Chapter  XL 320 

Chapter  XLI         328 

Chapter  XLII 336 

Chapter  XLIII 344 

Chapter  XLIV 353 

Chapter  XLV 361 

Chapter  XLVI 370 

Chapter  XLVJI 379 

Chapter  XLVIII 391 

Chapter  XLIX 399 

Chapter  L 409 

Chapter  LI 421 

Chapter  LII 430 

Chapter  LIII 439 

Chapter  LIV 448 

Chapter  LV 454 

Chapter  LVI         464 

Chapter  LVII 473 

Chapter  LVIII 479 

Notes 483 

Glossary 491 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  belonged  by  descent  to  a  large 
I  family  which  had  for  generations  lived  in  the  border 
counties  of  the  south  of  Scotland,  and  many  of  whose 
members  had  been  heroes  of  such  exploits  as  their  descendant 
was  to  make  familiar  to  all  the  world.  His  father,  Walter 
Scott,  the  first  of  the  stock  to  become  a  city  dweller,  was  by 
profession  a  writer  to  the  signet;  his  mother,  Anne  Ruther- 
ford, was  the  daughter  of  a  professor  of  medicine  in  Edin- 
burgh University.  The  future  novelist  was  born  in  Edin- 
burgh on  August  15.  1771,  and  attended  the  high  school  and 
university  of  his  native  town.  His  delicacy  as  a  child  led  to 
his  spending  much  of  his  youth  in  the  country,  where  he  early 
developed  a  love  for  the  ballads  and  tales  of  the  district, 
and  began  that  vast  collection  of  historical  and  legendary 
lore  on  which  he  drew  to  such  admirable  purpose  through 
thirty  years  of  authorship. 

After  serving  some  time  as  an  apprentice  to  his  father, 
he  studied  for  the  bar  and  became  an  advocate  in  1792,  He 
built  up  a  fair  practice  and  later  obtained  some  remunerative 
legal  offices,  but  by  the  time  he  was  thirty  he  was  feeling  a 
strong  attraction  to  literature.  He  had  already  done  some 
translating  from  the  German,  and  in  1802-3  published  the 
fruits  of  years  of  collecting  as  "The  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scot- 
tish Border,"  in  which  he  incorporated  some  ballads  of  his 
own  composition.  His  first  long  poem,  "The  Lay  of  the 
Last  Minstrel,"  1805,  was  also,  to  a  large  extent,  the  out- 
come of  these  interests ;  and  its  surprising  success  encour- 
aged him  to  further  attempts  in  the  same  vein,  the  most 
successful  being  "Marmion"  in  1808,  and  "The  Lady  of  the 
Lake"  in  1810.  His  later  narrative  poems  showing  a  falling 
off  in  popularity,  he  began  a  new  experiment  in  1814  with 
the  prose  romance  of  "Waverley,"  which  was  issued  anon- 
ymously.   In  the  next  five  years  he  produced  nine  Scottish 

iii 


iv  BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTE 

novels  which  enjoyed  an  immense  and  immediate  popularity, 
and  when  in  "Ivanhoe"  he  made  his  first  excursion  into  Eng- 
lish history,  the  vogue  was  still  further  extended. 

Meantime,  Scott  had  bought  land  on  Tweedside,  had  built 
the  mansion  of  Abbotsford,  and  had  set  out  to  found  a  landed 
family.  To  meet  the  expenses  which  were  incurred  by  this 
ambition  be  became  a  partner  in  a  printing  and  publishing 
business — a  venture  which  ended  disastrously.  The  failure 
of  a  London  banking  house  in  1826  brought  down  the  firms 
of  Constable  and  of  Ballantyne.  and  ruined  Scott. 

This  catastrophe  brought  out  the  heroic  side  of  his  nature. 
So  far  life  had  gone  smoothly  with  him;  he  had  made  a 
great  reputation  in  two  branches  of  literature — for  the  au- 
thorship of  the  Waverley  Novels,  though  not  acknowledged 
till  1827,  was  widely  suspected;  he  had  been  made  a  baronet; 
and  his  house  had  become  a  place  of  pilgrimage  for  hero- 
worshipers  of  all  nations.  He  could  have  become  a  bank- 
rupt and  gone  on  living  comfortably  on  the  income  of  his 
offices  and  the  earnings  of  his  pen.  This  he  refused  to  do. 
He  made  an  arrangement  with  his  creditors  and  set  himself 
to  pay  his  debts.  Within  two  years  he  had  got  together 
nearly  £40,000,  and  was  able  to  make  a  first  payment  of 
thirty  cents  on  the  dollar.  Turning  out  histories,  biographies, 
criticisms,  and  fiction  like  a  factory,  he  went  on  until  the 
terrific  strain  broke  him  down,  and  he  died  on  September 
21,  1832. 

Scott's  character  is  faithfully  reflected  in  his  writings. 
Though  possessed  of  a  vivid  historical  imagination  and  full 
of  romantic  enthusiasm,  he  had  a  strong  basis  of  common- 
sense  and  a  solid  respect  for  the  good  things  of  this  life. 
His  most  powerful  ethical  motive  was  a  chivalrous  sense  of 
honor,  but  his  nature  was  not  a  deeply  spiritual  one.  He  was 
no  prophet,  and  he  made  no  claim  for  his  fiction  beyond  its 
power  to  give  wholesome  entertainment  and  to  stimulate  a 
patriotic  interest  in  history.  In  his  personal  relations  he  was 
kindly  and  generous,  capable  of  strong  partisanship  but 
above  personal  enmities.  No  literary  man  of  his  time  had 
friends  in  so  many  different  circles;  and,  though  an  aristo- 
crat in  theory,  he  had  intimacies  with  men  of  all  ranks.  His 
power  of  loving  and  being  loved  extended  to  the  lower  ani- 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTE  V 

mals;  dogs,  no  bad  judges  of  character,  were  devoted  to  him, 
and  "even  a  pig,"  says  a  biographer,  "took  a  sentimental  at- 
tachment to  him."  The  annals  of  Hterary  men  show  no  more 
wholesome,  likable  man. 

Of  his  voluminous  productions  the  Waverley  Novels  have 
by  far  the  strongest  assurance  of  permanent  esteem.  Though 
in  his  own  lifetime  "Ivanhoe"  roused  greatest  enthusiasm 
in  England,  and  "Quentin  Durward"  in  France,  the  novels 
dealing  with  Scotland  are  to-day  the  main  foundation  of  his 
reputation.  As  to  the  best  among  these  there  is  no  general 
agreement,  but  most  readers  place  "Guy  Mannering"  near 
the  head  of  the  list,  and  many  excellent  judges  place  it  first. 
It  was  written  immediately  after  the  success  of  "Waverley." 
in  the  space  of  six  weeks,  and  published  in  February,  1815. 
It  was  at  Gilsland,  near  the  "waste  of  Cumberland,"  which 
he  describes  in  it,  that  he  met  the  French  refugee's  daugh- 
ter, Charlotte  Mary  Carpenter,  who  became  his  wife.  James 
Hogg  recognized  in  the  hero  of  the  novel  a  portrait  of  the 
author  himself.  The  original  of  Dominie  Sampson  has  been 
found  in  George  Thomson,  tutor  of  his  children,  for  many 
years  a  member  of  his  household,  though  this  equation  is  by 
no  means  certain.  Dandie  Dinmont  has  been  identified  by 
some  with  Willie  Eliot  of  Milburnholm.  a  border  farmer 
whom  he  discovered  in  one  of  his  annual  "raids"  in  search 
of  ballads,  "though  a  Jamie  Davidson,  whom  Scott  did  not 
know  till  after  the  novel  was  written,  xvho  kept  mustard-and- 
pepper  terriers,  passed  by  the  name  afterward ;  and  Lock- 
hart  thinks  the  portrait  was  filled  up  from  Scott's  friend, 
William  Laidlaw."  It  was  this  William  Laidlaw  who  acted 
as  his  amanuensis  when,  too  ill  to  hold  the  pen,  he  dictated 
"The  Bride  of  Lammermoor,"  which,  on  its  publication,  the 
author  read  as  a  new  work,  having  forgotten  all  but  the  story 
on  which  he  had  based  it.  In  the  introduction  by  the  author 
will  be  found  the  story  which  he  regarded  as  having  sug- 
gested the  plot,  though  other  "sources"  have  been  discov- 
ered, and  also  an  account  of  the  prototype  of  the  great  figure 
of  Meg  Merrilies. 

Little  light,  however,  is  thrown  on  the  secrets  of  Scott's 
genius  by  the  search  for  his  '"originals."  He  did  indeed  draw 
on  his  wide  acquaintance  with  people,  as  he  drew  on  his  vast 


vi  BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTE 

memory  for  the  legends  he  had  heard  and  the  history  and 
romance  he  had  read.  Without  huge  accumulations  of  this 
sort  it  is  clear  that  his  works  could  never  have  been  pro- 
duced; but  it  is  equally  clear  that  there  was  needed  also  a 
power  of  conjuring  up  the  life  of  the  past  as  a  living  and 
moving  pageant,  a  faculty  of  describing  men  and  women  as 
they  lived,  and  a  supreme  gift  for  telling  a  story.  Few  writ- 
ers have  done  as  much  to  widen  the  imaginative  sympathies 
of  men  to  embrace  ages  and  countries  remote  from  their 
own,  few  have  provided  for  young  and  old  so  great  and 
varied  possibilities  of  entertainment,  none  has  left  less  to 
regret.  For  as  Carlyle  has  insisted  in  an  essay  which  does 
not  fail  in  discrimination,  Scott  was  above  all  a  healthy  man, 
and  his  work  shares  this  virtue  throughout. 

The  wholesome  influence  of  Scott  is  not  confined  to  his 
own  novels.  Their  phenomenal  success,  as  was  inevitable,  set 
a  fashion,  and  every  literature  in  Europe  is  the  richer  for 
it.  He  first  showed  the  world  the  real  possibilities  of  the  his- 
torical romance,  and  the  devotees  of  Freytag  and  Manzoni, 
of  Dumas  and  Fenimore  Cooper,  are  the  debtors  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott. 

W.  A.  N. 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

I 

By  Thomas  Carlyle 

SCOTT'S  career  of  writing  impromptu  novels  to  buy 
farms  with  was  not  of  a  kind  to  terminate  voluntarily, 
but  to  accelerate  itself  more  and  more;  and  one  sees 
not  to  what  wise  goal  it  could  in  any  case  have  led  him. 
Bookseller  Constable's  bankruptcy  was  not  the  ruin  of  Scott ; 
his  ruin  was  that  ambition,  and  even  false  ambition,  had  laid 
hold  of  him;  that  his  way  of  life  was  not  wise.  Whither 
could  it  lead?  Where  could  it  stop?  New  farms  there  re- 
mained ever  to  be  bought,  while  new  novels  could  pay  for 
them.  More  and  more  success  but  gave  more  and  more 
appetite,  more  and  more  audacity.  The  impromptu  writing 
must  have  waxed  ever  thinner ;  declined  faster  and  faster 
into  the  questionable  category,  into  the  condemnable,  into  the 
generally  condemned.  Already  there  existed  in  secret  every- 
where a  considerable  opposition  party;  witnesses  of  the 
Waverley  miracles,  but  unable  to  believe  in  them,  forced 
silently  to  protest  against  them.  Such  opposition  party  was 
in  the  sure  case  to  grow ;  and  even,  with  the  impromptu 
process  ever  going  on,  ever  waxing  thinner  to  draw  the 
world  over  to  it.  Silent  protest  must  at  length  have  come 
to  words ;  harsh  truths,  backed  by  harsher  facts  of  a  world 
popularity  overwrought  and  worn  out,  behoved  to  have  been 
spoken ;  such  as  can  be  spoken  without  reluctance,  when 
they  can  pain  the  brave  man's  heart  no  more.  Who  knows? 
Perhaps  it  was  better  ordered  to  be  all  otherwise.  Otherwise, 
at  any  rate  it  was.  One  day  the  Constable  mountain,  which 
seemed  to  stand  strong  like  the  other  rock  mountains,  gave 
suddenly,  as  the  icebergs  do,  a  loud-sounding  crack,  suddenly 
with  huge  clangor  shivered  itself  into  ice-dust,  and  sank, 
carrying  much  along  with  it.    In  one  day  Scott's  high-heaped 

vii 


viii  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

money-wages  became  fairy  money  and  nonentity;  in  one 
day  the  rich  man  and  lord  of  land  saw  himself  penniless, 
landless,  a  bankrupt  among  creditors. 

It  was  a  hard  trial.  He  met  it  proudly,  bravely,  like  a 
brave,  proud  man  of  the  world.  Perhaps  there  had  been  a 
prouder  way  still :  to  have  owned  honestly  that  he  was  un- 
successful, then,  all  bankrupt,  broken  in  the  world's  goods 
and  repute,  and  to  have  turned  elsewhither  for  some  refuge. 
Refuge  did  lie  elsewhere ;  but  it  was  not  Scott's  course  or 
fashion  of  mind  to  seek  it  there.  To  say,  Hitherto  I  have 
been  all  in  the  wrong,  and  this  my  fame  and  pride,  now 
broken,  was  an  empty  delusion  and  spell  of  accursed  witch- 
craft !  It  was  difficult  for  flesh  and  blood !  He  said,  I  will 
retrieve  myself,  and  make  my  point  good  yet,  or  die  for  it. 
Silently  like  a  proud,  strong  man  he  girt  himself  to  the  Her- 
cules task  of  removing  rubbish-mountains,  since  that  was  it ; 
of  paying  large  ransoms  by  what  he  could  still  write  and 
sell.  In  his  declining  years,  too ;  misfortune  is  double  and 
trebly  unfortunate  that  befalls  us  then.  Scott  fell  to  his 
Hercules  task  like  a  very  man,  and  went  on  with  it  unwear- 
iedly;  with  a  noble  cheerfulness,  while  his  life-strings  were 
cracking,  he  grappled  with  it,  years  long,  in  death-grips, 
strength  to  strength ;  and  it  proved  the  stronger ;  and  his 
life  and  heart  did  crack  and  break.  The  cordage  of  a  most 
strong  heart !  Over  these  last  writings  of  Scott,  his  Na- 
poleons, Demonologies,  Scotch  Histories,  and  the  rest,  crit- 
icism, finding  still  much  to  wonder  at,  much  to  commend, 
will  utter  no  word  of  blame ;  this  one  word  only,  Woe  is  me ! 
The  noble  warhorse  that  once  laughed  at  the  shaking  of  the 
spear,  how  is  he  doomed  to  toil  himself  dead,  dragging  ignoble 
wheels!  Scott's  descent  was  like  that  of  a  spent  projectile; 
rapid,  straight  down;  perhaps  mercifully  so.  It  is  a  tragedy, 
as  all  life  is;  one  proof  more  that  Fortune  stands  on  a  rest- 
less globe;  that  Ambition,  literary,  warlike,  politic,  pecuniary, 
never  yet  profited  any  man. 

And  so  the  curtain  falls;  and  the  strong  Walter  Scott  is 
with  us  no  more.  A  possession  from  him  does  remain; 
widely  scattered,  yet  attainable;  not  inconsiderable.  It  can 
be  said  of  him,  When  he  departed  he  took  a  Man's  life  along 
with  him.     No  sounder  piece  of  British  manhood  was  put 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS  ix 

together  in  that  eighteenth  century  of  Time.  Alas,  his  fine 
Scotch  face,  with  its  shaggy  honesty,  sagacity  and  goodness, 
when  we  saw  it  latterly  on  the  Edinburgh  streets,  was  all 
worn  with  care,  the  joy  all  fled  from  it ! — ploughed  deep 
with  labor  and  sorrow.  We  shall  never  forget  it ;  we  shall 
never  see  it  again.  Adieu,  Sir  Walter,  pride  of  all  Scotch- 
men, take  our  proud  and  sad  farewell. — From  '"Sir  Walter 
Scott,"  in  "Critical  and  Miscellaneous  Essays,"'  1838. 

a-  - 

II 

By  Richard  Holt  Hutton 

THERE  is  something  of  irony  in  such  a  result  of  the 
Herculean  labors  of  Scott  to  found  and  endow  a  new 
branch  of  the  clan  of  Scott.  When  fifteen  years  after 
his  death  the  estate  was  at  length  freed  from  debt,  all  his 
own  children  and  the  eldest  of  his  grandchildren  were  dead. 
This  only  was  wanting  to  give  something  of  the  grandeur 
of  tragedy  to  the  end  of  Scott's  great  enterprise.  He  valued 
his  works  little  compared  with  the  house  and  lands  which 
they  were  to  be  the  means  of  gaining  for  his  descendants; 
yet  every  end  for  which  he  struggled  so  gallantly  is  all  but 
lost  while  his  works  have  gained  more  of  added  luster  from 
the  losing  battle  which  he  fought  so  long  than  they  could 
ever  have  gained  from  his  success. 

What  there  was  in  him  of  true  grandeur  could  never  have 
been  seen  had  the  fifth  act  of  his  life  been  less  tragic  than 
it  was.  Generous,  large  hearted  and  magnanimous  as  Scott 
was,  there  was  something  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity  that 
fell  short  of  what  men  need  for  their  highest  ideal  of  a 
strong  man.  Unbroken  success,  unrivaled  popularity,  imag- 
inative effort  flowing  almost  as  steadily  as  the  current  of  a 
stream — these  are  characteristics  which,  even  when  enhanced 
as  they  were  in  his  case  by  the  power  to  defy  physical  pain 
and  to  live  in  his  imaginative  world  when  his  body  v.as 
writhing  in  torture,  fail  to  touch  the  heroic  point.  And  there 
was  nothing  in  Scott,  while  he  remained  prosperous,  to  re- 
lieve adequately  the  glare  of  triumphant  prosperity.  His 
religious  and  moral  feeling,  though  strong  and  sound,  was 


X  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

purely  regulative,  and  not  always  even  regulative,  where  his 
inward  principle  was  not  reflected  in  the  opinions  of  the 
society  in  which  he  lived.  The  finer  spiritual  element  in 
Scott  was  relatively  deficient,  and  so  the  strength  of  the 
natural  man  was  almost  too  equal,  complete  and  glaring. 
Something  that  should  "tame  the  glaring  white"  of  that 
broad  sunshine  was  needed;  and  in  the  years  of  reverse — 
when  one  gift  after  another  was  taken  away,  till  at  length 
what  he  called  even  his  ''magic  wand"  was  broken,  and  the 
old  man  struggled  on  to  the  last  without  bitterness,  without 
defiance,  without  murmuring,  but  not  without  such  sudden 
flashes  of  subduing  sweetness  as  melted  away  the  anger  of 
the  teacher  of  his  childhood — that  something  seemed  to  be 
supplied.  Till  calamity  came,  Scott  appeared  to  be  nearly  a 
complete  natural  man,  and  no  more.  Then  first  was  per- 
ceived in  him  something  above  nature,  something  which 
could  endure  though  every  end  of  life  for  which  he  fought 
so  boldly  should  be  defeated — something  which  could  endure 
and  more  than  endure,  which  could  shoot  a  soft  transparence 
of  its  own  through  his  years  of  darkness  and  decay.  That 
there  was  nothing  very  elevated  in  Scott's  personal  or  moral, 
or  political  or  literary  ends — that  he  never  for  a  moment 
thought  of  himself  as  one  who  was  bound  to  leave  the  earth 
better  than  he  found  it — that  he  never  seems  to  have  so 
much  as  contemplated  a  social  or  political  reform  for  which 
he  ought  to  contend — that  he  lived  to  some  extent  like  a  child 
blowing  soap  bubbles,  the  brightest  and  most  gorgeous  of 
which,  the  Abbotsford  bubble,  vanished  before  his  eyes,  is 
not  a  take-off  from  the  charm  of  his  career,  but  adds  to  it 
the  very  specialty  of  its  fascination.  For  it  was  his  entire 
unconsciousness  of  moral  or  spiritual  efforts,  the  simple 
straightforward  way  in  which  he  labored  for  ends  of  the 
most  ordinary  kind,  which  made  it  clear  how  much  greater 
the  man  was  than  his  ends,  how  great  was  the  mind  and 
character  which  prosperity  failed  to  display,  but  which  be- 
came visible  at  once  so  soon  as  the  storm  came  down  and  the 
night  fell.  Few  men  who  battle  avowedly  for  the  right — 
battle  for  it  with  the  calm  fortitude,  the  cheerful  equanimity 
w'ith  which  Scott  battled  to  fulfill  his  engagements  and  to 
save  his  family  from  ruin.    He  stood  high  amongst  those — 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS  xi 

"Who  ever  with  a  frolic  welcome  took 
The  thunder  and  the  sunshine,  and  opposed 
Free   hearts,    free   foreheads," 

among  those  who  have  been  able  to  display — 

"One  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will, 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield." 

And  it  was  because  the  man  was  so  much  greater  than 
the  ends  for  which  he  strove,  that  there  is  a  sort  of  grandeur 
in  the  tragic  fate  which  denied  them  to  him,  and  yet  exhibited 
to  all  the  world  the  infinite  superiority  of  the  striver  him- 
self to  the  toy  he  was  thus  passionately  craving. — From 
"Scott,"  in  "English  Men  of  Letters." 


Ill 

Carlyle  on  the  Waverley  Novels 

WITH  respect  to  the  literary  character  of  these  Wav- 
erley Novels,  so  extraordinary  in  their  commer- 
cial character,  there  remains,  after  so  much  re- 
viewing, good  and  bad,  little  that  it  were  profitable  at  present 
to  say.  The  great  fact  about  them  is,  that  they  were  faster 
written  and  better  paid  for  than  any  other  books  in  the 
world.  It  must  be  granted,  moreover,  that  they  have  a 
worth  far  surpassing  what  is  usual  in  such  cases;  nay,  that  if 
Literature  had  no  task  but  that  of  harmlessly  amusing  indo- 
lent, languid  men,  here  was  the  very  perfection  of  Litera- 
ture ;  that  a  man,  here  more  emphatically  than  ever  else- 
where, might  fling  himself  back,  exclaiming  "Be  mine  to  lie 
on  this  sofa,  and  read  everlasting  Novels  of  Walter  Scott!" 
The  composition,  slight  as  it  often  is,  usually  hangs  .together 
in  some  measure,  and  is  a  composition.  There  is  a  free  flow 
of  narrative,  of  incident,  and  sentiment ;  and  easy  masterlike 
coherence  throughout,  as  if  it  were  the  free  dash  of  a 
master's  hand,  "round  as  the  O  of  Giotto."  It  is  the  per- 
fection of  extemporaneous  writing.  Furthermore,  surely  he 
were  a  blind  critic  who  did  not  recognise  here  a  certain 
genial,    sunshiny    freshness   and    picturesqueness ;    paintings 


xii  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

both  of  scenery  and  figures,  very  graceful,  brilliant,  occa- 
sionally full  of  grace  and  glowing  brightness  blended  in  the 
softest  composure;  in  fact,  a  deep  sincere  love  of  the  beau- 
tiful in  Nature  and  Man,  and  the  readiest  faculty  of  express- 
ing this  by  imagination  and  by  word.  No  fresher  paintings 
of  Nature  can  be  found  than  Scott's;  hardly  anywhere  a 
wider  sympathy  with  man.  From  Davie  Deans  up  to  Rich- 
ard Coeur  de  Lion;  from  Meg  Merrilies  to  Di  Vernon  and 
Queen  Elizabeth  !  It  is  the  utterance  of  a  man  of  open  ^oul ; 
of  a  brave,  large,  free-seeing  man,  who  has  a  true  brother- 
hood with  all  men.  In  joyous  picturesqueness  and  fellow- 
feeling,  freedom  of  eye  and  heart ;  or  to  say  it  in  a  word,  in 
general  healthiness  of  mind,  these  Novels  prove  Scott  to  have 
been  amongst  the  foremost  writers. 

•  •*....« 

What,  then,  is  the  result  of  these  Waverley  Romances? 
Are  they  to  amuse  one  generation  only  ?  One  or  more ! 
As  many  generations  as  they  can ;  but  not  all  generations ; 
ah,  no,  when  our  swallow-tail  has  become  fantastic  as  trunk 
hose,  they  will  cease  to  amuse  !  Meanwhile,  as  we  can  dis- 
cern, their  results  have  been  several-fold.  First  of  all,  and 
certainly  not  least  of  all,  have  they  not  perhaps  had  this 
result ;  that  a  considerable  portion  of  mankind  has  hereby 
been  sated  with  mere  amusement,  and  set  on  seeking  some- 
thing better  ?  Amusement  in  the  way  of  reading  can  go  no 
farther,  can  do  nothing  better,  by  the  power  of  man ;  and 
men  ask.  Is  this  what  it  can  do?  Scott,  we  reckon,  carried 
several  things  to  their  ultimatum  and  crisis,  so  that  change 
became  inevitable :  a  great  service,  though  an  indirect  one. 

Secondly,  however,  we  may  say,  these  Historical  Novels 
have  taught  all  men  this  truth,  which  looks  like  a  truism,  and 
yet  was  as  good  as  unknown  to  writers  of  history  and 
others,  till  so  taught ;  that  the  bygone  ages  of  the  world  were 
actually  filled  by  living  men,  not  by  protocols,  state  papers, 
controversies  and  abstractions  of  men.  Not  abstractions 
were  they,  not  diagrams  and  theorems :  but  men,  in  buff  or 
other  coats  and  breeches,  with  colour  in  their  cheeks,  with 
passions  in  their  stomach,  and  the  idioms,  features  and 
vitalities  of  very  men.  It  is  a  little  word  this;  inclusive  of 
great    meaning !      History    will    henceforth    have    to    take 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS  xiii 

thought  of  it.  Her  faint  hearsays  of  "philosophy  teaching 
by  experience"  will  have  to  exchange  themselves  every- 
where for  direct  inspection  and  embodiment :  this,  and  this 
only,  will  be  counted  experience ;  and  till  once  experience 
have  got  in,  philosophy  will  reconcile  herself  to  wait  at  the 
door.  It  is  a  great  service,  fertile  in  consequences,  this  that 
Scott  has  done ;  a  great  truth  laid  open  by  him ; — correspond- 
ent indeed  to  the  substantial  nature  of  the  man,  to  his  solidity 
and'veracity  even  of  imagination,  which,  with  all  his  lively 
discursiveness,  was  the  characteristic  of  him.  ...  — 
From  "Sir  Walter  Scott,"  in  "Critical  and  Miscellaneous 
Essays,"  1838. 

IV 

Richard  Holt  Hutton  on  Scott's  Women 

I  THINK  the  deficiency  of  his  pictures  of  women,  odd  as 
it  seems  to  say  so,  should  be  greatly  attributed  to  his 
natural  chivalry.  His  conception  of  women  of  his  own 
or  a  higher  class  was  always  too  romantic.  He  hardly  ven- 
tured, as  it  were,  in  his  tenderness  for  them  to  look  deeply 
into  their  weaknesses  and  intricacies  of  character.  With 
women  of  an  inferior  class  he  had  not  this  feeling.  Nothing 
can  be  more  perfect  than  the  manner  in  which  he  blends  the 
dairywoman  and  woman  of  business  in  Jeanie  Deans  with 
the  lover  and  the  sister.  But  once  make  a  woman  beauti- 
ful, or  in  any  way  an  object  of  homage  to  him,  and  Scott 
bowed  so  low  before  the  image  of  her  that  he  could  not  go 
deep  into  her  heart.  He  could  no  more  have  analyzed  such 
a  woman,  as  Thackeray  analyzed  Lady  Castlewood,  or 
Amelia,  or  Becky,  or  as  George  Eliot  analyzed  Rosamond 
Vincy,  than  he  could  have  vivisected  Camp  or  MaidaS  To 
some  extent,  therefore,  Scott's  pictures  of  women  remain 
something  in  the  style  of  the  miniatures  of  the  last  age — 
bright  and  beautiful  beings  without  any  special  character  in 
them.  He  was  dazzled  by  a  fair  heroine.  He  could  not 
take  them  up  into  his  imaginations  as  real  beings  as  he  did 
men.  But  then  how  living  are  his  men,  whether  coarse 
or  noble! — From  "Scott,"  in  "English  Men  of  Letters." 

'His  favorite  dogs. 


xiv  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

V 

Walter  Bagehot  on  the  Waverley  Novels 

AS  in  the  imagination  of  Shakespeare,  so  in  that  of  Scott, 
l\  the  principal  form  and  object  were  the  structure 
-* — ^  — that  is  a  hard  word  —  the  undulation  and  diver- 
sified composition  of  human  society;  the  picture  of  this 
stood  in  the  center,  and  everything  else  was  accessory  and 
secondary  to  it.  The  old  "rows  of  books"  in  which  Scott 
so  peculiarly  delighted  were  made  to  contribute  their  ele- 
ment to  this  varied  imagination  of  humanity.  From  old 
family  histories,  odd  memoirs,  old  law  trials,  his  fancy 
elicited  new  traits  to  add  to  the  motley  assemblage.  His 
objection  to  democracy — an  objection  of  which  we  can 
only  appreciate  the  emphatic  force  when  we  remember  that 
his  youth  was  contemporary  with  the  first  French  revolu- 
tion and  the  controversy  as  to  the  uniform  and  stereotyped 
rights  of  man — was  that  it  would  sweep  away  this  entire 
picture,  level  prince  and  peasant  in  a  common  egalite,  sub- 
stitute a  scientific  rigidity  for  the  irregular  and  picturesque 
growth  of  centuries,  replace  an  abounding  and  genial  life 
by  a  symmetrical  but  lifeless  mechanism.  All  the  descrip- 
tions of  society  in  his  novels — whether  of  feudal  society, 
of  modern  Scotch  society  or  of  English  society — are  largely 
colored  by  this  feeling :  it  peeps  out  everywhere,  and  Liberal 
critics  have  endeavored  to  show  that  it  was  a  narrow 
Toryism;  but  in  reality  it  is  a  subtle  compound  of  the 
natural  instinct  of  the  artist  with  the  plain  sagacity  of  the 
man  of  the  world. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  show  how  clearly  the  same  sagacity 
appears  in  his  delineation  of  the  various  great  events  and 
movements  in  society  which  are  described  in  the  Scotch 
novels :  there  is  scarcely  one  of  them  which  does  not  bear  it 
on  its  surface.  Objections  may,  as  we  shall  show,  be  urged 
to  the  delineation  which  Scott  has  given  of  the  Puritan 
resistance  and  rebellions,  yet  scarcely  any  one  will  say 
there  is  not  a  worldly  sense  in  it ;  on  the  contrary,  the  very 
objection  is  that  it  is  too  worldly  and  far  too  exclusively 
sensible. 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATION'S  xv 

The  same  thoroughly  well-grounded  sagacity  and  com- 
prehensive appreciation  of  human  life  is  shown  in  the  treat- 
ment of  what  we  may  call  anomalous  characters.  In  gen- 
eral, monstrosity  is  no  topic  for  art.  Every  one  has  known 
in  real  life  characters  which  if,  apart  from  much  experience, 
he  had  found  described  in  books,  he  would  have  thought 
unnatural  and  impossible ;  Scott,  however,  abounds  in  such 
characters.  Meg  Merrilies,  Edie  Ochiltree,  Ratcliffe'  are 
more  or  less  of  that  description.  That  of  Meg  Merrilies 
especially  is  as  distorted  and  eccentric  as  anything  can  be ; 
her  appearance  is  described  as  making  Mannering  "start," 
and  well   it  might. 

"She  was  full  six  feet  high,  wore  a  man's  great  coat 
over  the  rest  of  her  dress,  had  in  her  hand  a  goodly  sloethorn 
cudgel,  and  in  all  points  of  equipment  except  her  petticoats 
seemed  rather  masculine  than  feminine.  Her  dark  elf-locks 
shot  out  like  the  snakes  of  the  Gorgon  between  an  old- 
fashioned  bonnet  called  a  bongrace,  heightening  the  singular 
effect  of  her  strong  and  weather-beaten  features,  which  they 
partly  shadowed,  while  her  eye  had  a  wild  roll  that  indicated 
something  like  real  or  affected  insanity."" 

Her  career  in  the  tale  corresponds  with  the  strangeness 
of  her  exterior.  "Harlot,  thief,  witch,  and  gipsy,"  as  she 
describes  herself,'  the  hero  is  preserved  by  her  virtues; 
half -crazed  as  she  is  described  to  be,  he  owes  his  safety  on 
more  than  one  occasion  to  her  skill  in  stratagem,  and 
ability  in  managing  those  with  whom  she  is  connected  and 
who  are  most  likely  to  be  familiar  with  her  weakness  and 
to  detect  her  craft;  yet  on  hardly  any  occasion  is  the 
natural  reader  conscious  of  this  strangeness.  Something 
is,  of  course,  attributable  to  the  skill  of  the  artist;  for  no 
other  power  of  mind  could  produce  the  effect,  unless  it 
were  aided  by  the  unconscious  tact  of  detailed  expression. 
But  the  fundamental  explanation  of  this  remarkable  success 
is  the  distinctness  with  which  Scott  saw  how  such  a 
character  as  Meg  Merrilies  arose  and  was  produced  out  of 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  gipsy  life  in  the  localities  in 

'In   "Guy   Mannering."  "Antiquary,"  "Heart  of  Midlothian." 
'"Guy   Mannering,"   chapter   iii. 

"She  does  not:  these  words  are  Dominie  Sampson's  (same  chapter). — 
Editor. 


xvi  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

which  he  has  placed  his  scene.  He  has  exhibited  this  to 
his  readers  not  by  lengthy  or  elaborate  description,  but 
by  chosen  incidents,  short  comments,  and  touches  of  which 
he  scarcely  foresaw  the  effect.  This  is  the  only  way  in 
which  the  fundamental  objection  to  making  eccentricity  the 
subject  of  artistic  treatment  can  be  obviated.  Monstrosity 
ceases  to  be  such  when  we  discern  the  laws  of  nature  which 
evolve  it;  when  a  real  science  explains  its  phenomena,  we 
find  that  it  is  in  strict  accordance  with  what  we  call  ithe 
"natural  type,"  but  that  some  rare  adjunct  or  uncommon 
casualty  has  interfered  and  distorted  a  nature  which  is 
really  the  same  into  a  phenomenon  which  is  altogether 
different. 

Just  so  with  eccentricity  in  human  character ;  it  be- 
comes a  topic  of  literary  art  only  when  its  identity  with 
the  ordinary  principles  of  human  nature  is  exhibited  in 
the  midst  of  and  as  it  were  by  means  of,  the  superficial 
unlikeness.  Such  a  skill,  however,  requires  an  easy  care- 
less familiarity  with  usual  human  life  and  common  human 
conduct.  A  writer  must  have  a  sympathy  with  health 
before  he  can  show  us  how  and  where  and  to  what 
extent  that  which  is  unhealthy  deviates  from  it ;  and  it  is 
this  consistent  acquaintance  with  regular  life  which  makes 
the  irregular  characters  of  Scott  so  happy  a  contrast  to 
the  uneasy  distortions  of  less  sagacious  novelists. 

A  good  deal  of  the  same  criticism  may  be  applied  to  the 
delineation  which  Scott  has  given  us  of  the  poor.  Ini 
truth,  poverty  is  an  anomaly  to  rich  people:  it  is  very 
difficult  to  make  out  why  people  who  want  dinner  do  not 
ring  the  bell.  One-half  of  the  world,  according  to  the 
saying,  do  not  know  how  the  other  half  lives.  Accordingly, 
nothing  is  so  rare  in  fiction  as  a  good  delineation  of  the 
poor ;  though  perpetually  with  us  in  reality,  we  rarely 
meet  them  in  our  reading.  The  requirements  of  the  case 
present  an  unusual  difficulty  to  artistic  delineation:  a  good 
deal  of  the  character  of  the  poor  is  an  unfit  topic  for  con- 
tinuous art,  and  yet  we  wish  to  have  in  our  books  a  Hfc- 
like exhibition  of  the  whole  of  that  character.  Mean 
manners  and  mean  vices  are  unfit  for  prolonged  delinea- 
tion;  the  everyday  pressure   of   narrow  necessities   is  too 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS  xvii 

petty  a  pain  and  to  anxious  a  reality  to  be  dwelt  upon.  We 
can  bear  the  mere  description  of   the  "Parish   Register" — 

*'But  this  poor   farce  has  neither  truth   nor  art, 
To  please  the  fancy  or  to  touch  the  heart :    .    .    . 
Dark  but  not  awful,  dismal  but  yet  mean, 
With  anxious  bustle  moves  the  cumbrous  scene, 
Presents  no  objects  tender  or  profound, 
But  spreads  its  cold,  unmeaning  gloom  around ;" 

but  who  could  bear  to  have  a  long  narrative  of  fortunes 
"dismal  but  yet  mean,"  with  characters  "dark  but  not 
awful,"  and  no  objects  "tender  or  profound?"  Mr. 
Dickens  has  in  various  parts  of  his  writings  been  led,  by  a 
sort  of  pre-Raphaelite  ciiltus  of  reality,  into  an  error  of 
this  species :  his  poor  people  have  taken  to  their  poverty 
very  thoroughly ;  they  are  poor  talkers  and  poor  livers, 
and  in  all  ways  poor  people  to  read  about.  A  whole  array 
of  writers  have  fallen  into  an  opposite  mistake :  wishing 
to  preserve  their  delineations  clear  from  the  defects  of 
meanness  and  vulgarity,  they  have  attributed  to  the  poor 
a  fancied  happiness  and  Arcadian  simplicity.  The  con- 
ventional shepherd  of  ancient  times  was  scarcely  displeas- 
ing; that  which  is  by  everything  except  express  avowal  re- 
moved from  the  sphere  of  reality  does  not  annoy  us  by 
its  deviations  from  reality;  but  the  fictitious  poor  of  senti- 
mental novelists  are  brought  almost  into  contact  with  real 
life;  half  claim  to  be  copies  of  what  actually  exists  at  our 
very  doors,  arc  introduced  in  close  proximit}'  to  characters 
moving  in  a  higher  rank,  over  whom  no  such  ideal  charm 
is  diffused,  and  who  are  painted  with  as  much  truth  as 
the  writer's  ability  enables  him  to  give.  Accordingly,  the 
contract  is  evident  and  displeasing ;  the  harsh  outlines  of 
poverty  will  not  bear  the  artificial  rose  tint;  they  arc  seen 
through  it,  like  high  cheek-bones  through  the  delicate 
colors  of  artificial  youth.  We  turn  away  with  some  dis- 
gust from  the  false  elegance  and  undeceiving  art;  we 
prefer  the  rough  poor  of  nature  to  the  petted  poor  of  the 
refining  describer.  Scott  has  most  felicitously  avoided 
both  these  errors :  his  poor  people  are  never  coarse  and 
never  vulgar.  Their  lineaments  have  the  rude  traits 
which  a  life  of  conflict  will  inevitably  leave  on  the  minds 


xviii  CRITICISIMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

and  manners  of  those  who  are  to  lead  it ;  their  notions  have 
the  narrowness  which  is  inseparable  from  a  contracted  ex- 
perience ;  their  knowledge  is  not  more  extended  than  their 
restricted  means  of  attaining  it  would  render  possible. 
Almost  alone  among  novelists,  Scott  has  given  a  thorough, 
minute,  lifelike  description  of  poor  persons  which  is  at 
the  same  time  genial  and  pleasing.  The  reason  seems  to  be, 
that  the  firm  sagacity  of  his  genius  comprehended  the  in- 
dustrial aspect  of  poor  people's  life  thoroughly  and  com- 
prehensively, his  experience  brought  it  before  him  easily 
and  naturally,  and  his  artist's  mind  and  genial  disposition 
enabled  him  to  dwell  on  those  features  which  would  be 
most  pleasing  to  the  world  in  general.  In  fact,  his  own 
mind,  of  itself  and  by  its  own  nature,  dwelt  on  those  very 
peculiarities.  He  could  not  remove  his  firm  and  instructed 
genius  into  the  domain  of  Arcadian  unreality ;  but  he  was 
equally  unable  to  dwell  principally,  peculiarly,  or  con- 
secutively, on  those  petty,  vulgar,  mean  details  in  which 
such  a  writer  as  Crabbe  lives  and  breathes.  Hazlitt  said 
that  Crabbe  described  a  poor  man's  cottage  like  a  man  who 
came  to  distrain  for  rent :  he  catalogued  every  trivial 
piece  of  furniture,  defects  and  cracks  and  all.^  Scott 
describes  it  as  a  cheerful  but  most  sensible  landlord  would 
describe  a  cottage  on  his  property :  he  has  a  pleasure  in 
it.  No  detail,  or  few  details,  in  the  life  of  the  inmates 
escape  his  experienced  and  interested  eye ;  but  he  dwells 
on  those  which  do  not  displease  him.  He  sympathizes  with 
their  rough  industry  and  plain  joys  and  sorrows.  He  does 
not  fatigue  himself  or  excite  their  wondering  smile  by 
theoretical  plans  of  impossible  relief ;  he  makes  the  best 
of  the  life  which  is  given,  and  by  a  sanguine  sympathy 
makes  it  still  better.  A  hard  life  many  characters  in  Scott 
seem  to  lead ;  but  he  appreciates  and  makes  his  reader  ap- 
preciate the  full  value  of  natural  feelings,  plain  thoughts, 
and  applied  sagacity. — From  a  review  of  "The  Waverley 
Novels,"  1858. 

'"Lectures   on   the   English   Poets" — on   Thomson   and   Cowper. 


CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS  xix 

VI 

RusKiN  ON  Scott's  Women 

I  PUT  aside  his  merely  romantic  prose  writings  as  of  no 
value;  and  though  the  early  romantic  poetry  is  very 
beautiful,  its  testimony  is  of  no  weight  other  than  that 
of 'a  boy's  ideal.  But  his  true  works,  studied  from  Scottish 
life,  bear  a  true  witness ;  and  in  the  whole  range  of  these 
there  are  but  three  men  who  reach  the  heroic  type* — Dandie 
Dinmont,  Rob  Roy,  and  Qaverhouse ;  of  these,  one  is  a  border 
farmer ;  another  a  freebooter ;  the  third  a  soldier  in  a  bad 
cause.  And  these  touch  the  ideal  of  heroism  only  in  their 
courage  and  faith,  together  with  a  strong  but  uncultivated 
or  mistakenly  applied  intellectual  power ;  while  his  younger 
men  are  the  gentlemanly  playthings  of  fantastic  fortune,  and 
only  by  aid  (or  accident)  of  that  fortune  survive;  not  van- 
quish, the  trial  they  involuntarily  sustain.  Of  any  disciplined 
or  consistent  character,  earnest  in  a  purpose  wisely  con- 
ceived, or  dealing  with  forms  of  hostile  evil,  definitely  chal- 
lenged and  resolutely  subdued,  there  is  no  trace  in  his  con- 
ception of  young  men.  Whereas,  in  his  imaginations  of 
women — in  the  characters  of  Ellen  Douglas,  of  Flora  ]\Iac- 
Ivor,  Rose  Brawardine,  Catherine  Seyton,  Diana  Vernon. 
Lilias  Redgauntlet,  Alice  Bridgenorth,  Alice  Lee,  and  Jeanie 
Deans,  with  endless  varieties  of  grace,  tenderness,  and  intel- 
lectual power — we  find  in  all  a  quite  infallible  sense  of  dignity 
and  justice;  a  fearless,  instant,  and  untiring  self-sacrifice  to 
even  the  appearance  of  duty,  much  more  to  its  real  claim, 
and  finally  a  patient  wisdom  of  deeply  restrained  affection, 
which  does  infinitely  more  than  protect  its  objects  from  a 
momentary  error;  it  gradually  forms,  animates,  and  exalts 
the  characters  of  the  unworthy  lovers,  until  at  the  close  of 

'I  ought  in  order  to  make  this  assertion  fully  understood,  to  have  noted 
the  various  weaknesses  which  lower  the  ideals  of  other  preat  characters  of 
men  in  the  Waverley  novels. — the  selfishness  and  narrowness  of  thought  in 
Redgauntlet,  the  weak  religious  enthusiasm  in  Edward  Glendenning,  and  the 
like;  and  I  ought  to  have  noticed  that  there  are  several  quite  perfect 
characters  sketched  sometimes  in  the  backgrounds;  three — let  us  accept 
joyously  this  courtesy  to  England  and  her  soldiers — are  English  officers: 
Colonel  Gardiner,  Colonel  Talbot,  and  Colonel  Mannering. 


XX  CRITICISMS    AND    INTERPRETATIONS 

the  tale  we  are  just  able,  and  no  more,  to  take  patience  in 
hearing  of  their  unmerited  success. 

So  that  in  all  cases,  with  Scott  as  with  Shakespeare,  it  is 
the  woman,  who  watches  over,  teaches,  and  guides  the  youth ; 
it  is  never,  by  any  chance,  the  youth  who  watches  over  or 
educates  his  mistress. — From  "Sesame  and  Lilies." 


LIST  OF   CHARACTERS 


Mrs.  Allan,  Colonel  Mannering's  housekeeper. 
Andrew,  gardener  at  Ellangowan. 
Giles  Baillie,  a  gipsy. 
Barnes,  valet  to  Colonel  Mannering. 
Deacon  Bearcliff,  a  village  worthy. 
Godfrey  Bertratii,  Laird  of  Ellangowan. 
Mrs.  Bertram,  his  wife. 

Henry  Bertram  (also  called  Captain  Brown),  son  of  Godfrey. 
Lucy  Bertram,  daughter  of  Godfrey. 
Margaret  Bertr.\m,  a  relative  of  Godfrey. 
Captain  Brown   (see  Henr>'  Bertram"). 
Lieutenant  Vanbeest  Brown,  smuggler. 
CocKBURN,  landlord  of  the  George  Inn. 
Cossard,  a  justice. 

Captain  Delaserre,  friend  of  Harry  Bertram. 
Daxdie   Dinmont. 
AiLiE  Dinmont,  wife  of  Dandie. 
Jennie  Dinmont,  his  daughter. 
Donald,  an  Edinburgh  chairman. 
Driver.  Pleydell's  clerk. 

Dudley,  an  artist,  friend  to  Henry  Bertram. 
Jamie  Duff,  an  idiot. 
Rev.  Dr.  Erskine,  a  Scotch  divine. 
Gabriel  Faa,  gipsy,  nephew  of  Meg  Merrilies. 
John  Featiierhf.ad,  opponent  of  Kittlecourt. 
Janet  Gibson,  dependent  on  Margaret  Bertram. 
Gilbert  Glo.ssin,  Godfrey  Bertram's  agent. 
Grizzle,  servant  at  Gordon  Arms. 
Dirk  Hatteraick.  a  smuggler. 
Charles  Hazlewood,  lover  of  Lucy  Bertram. 
Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,  his  father. 

Godfrey  Bertram  Hewit,  natural  son  of  Godfrey  Bertram. 
Joe  Hodges,  a  landlord. 
Luckie  Howatson,  a  midwife. 

Jock  o'  Dawtson  Cleugh,  neighl)our  !o  Dandie  Dinmont. 
Jock  Jabos,  postilion  at  the  Gordon  Arms. 
Mrs.  Jabos,  his  mother. 
Slounging  Jock,  jailer's  assistant. 
Johnstone,  a  young  fisherman. 
Peggie  Johnstone,  a  laundress,  his  sister. 
William  Johnstone,  their  father. 

xxi 


xxii  LIST    OF    CHARACTERS 

Francis  Kennedy,  a  revenue  officer. 

Sir  Thomas  Kittlecourt,  member  of  parliament. 

Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  landlady  of  the  Gordon  Arms. 

Mac-Casquil,  sometime  of  Drumquag. 

Miles  MacFin,  a  cadie, 

David  Mac-Guffog,  a  jailer. 

Mrs.  Mac-Guffog,  his  wife. 

Mac-Morlan,   Sheriff  substitute. 

Mrs.  Mac-Morlan,  his  wife. 

Colonel  Guy  Mannering,  an  English  officer,  retired. 

Julia  Mannering,  his  daughter. 

Mrs.  Mannering  (Sophia  Wellwood),  his  wife. 

Matilda  Marchmont,  Julia's  friend  and  correspondent. 

Meg  Merrilies,  a  gipsy. 

Arthur  Mervyn,  a  friend  to  Colonel  Mannering. 

Mrs.  Mervyn,  his  wife. 

Mortcloke,  an  undertaker. 

TiBB  Mumps,  landlady  of  Mumps  Ha'. 

Paulus  Pleydell,  an  Edinburgh  lawyer. 

William   Pritchard,  commander  of  the  sloop  Shark. 

Peter  Protocol,  trustee  of  Margaret  Bertram's  Estate. 

Mr.   Quid,  a  kinsman  of  Margaret  Bertram. 

Mrs.  Rebecca,  Margaret  Bertram's  maid. 

Dominie  Abel  Sampson,  tutor  to  Henry  and  Lucy  Bertram. 

ScROW,  Glossin's  clerk. 

Sam  Silverquill,  an  idle  apprentice. 

Mr.  Skreigh,  precentor  of  Kippletringan. 

Soles,  a  shoemaker. 

Dick  Spur'em,  assistant  to  Mac-Guffog. 

Tom,  servant  to   Charles  Hazlewood. 

John  Wilson,  groom  to  Godfrey  Bertram. 


INTRODUCTION   TO  GUY 
MANNERING 

OR 
THE  ASTROLOGER 

(1829) 

'Tis  said  that  words  and  signs  have  power 
O'er  sprites   in   planetary   hour ; 
But   scarce   I   praise   their   venturous   part, 
Who  tamper  with  such  dangerotis  art. 

Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 

THE  Novel  or  Romance  of  Waverley  made  its  way 
to  the  public  slowly,  of  course,  at  first,  but  after- 
wards with  such  accumulating  popularity  as  to  en- 
courage the  author  to  a  second  attempt.  He  looked  about 
for  a  name  and  a  subject;  and  the  manner  in  which  the 
novels  were  composed  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  by 
reciting  the  simple  narrative  on  which  Guy  Manncring  was 
originally  founded;  but  to  which,  in  the  progress  of  the 
work,  the  production  ceased  to  bear  any,  even  the  most 
distant  resemblance.  The  tale  was  originally  told  me  by 
an  old  servant  of  my  father's,  an  excellent  old  Highlander, 
without  a  fault,  unless  a  preference  to  mountain-dew  over 
less  potent  liquors  be  accounted  one.  He  believed  as  firmly 
in  the  story  as  in  any  part  of  his  creed. 

A  grave  and  elderly  person,  according  to  old  John  Mac- 
Kinlay's  account,  while  travelling  in  the  wilder  parts  of 
Galloway,  was  benighted.  With  difficulty  he  found  his 
way  to  a  country-seat,  where,  with  the  hospitality  of  the 
time  and  country,  he  was  readily  admitted.  The  owner 
of  the  house,  a  gentleman  of  good  fortune,  was  much 
struck  by  the  reverend  appearance  of  his  guest,  and  apolo- 
gized to  him  for  a  certain  degree  of  confusion  which  must 
unavoidably  attend  his  reception  and  could  not  escape  his 

1 


3  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

eye.  The  lady  of  the  house  was,  he  said,  confined  to  her 
apartment,  and  on  the  point  of  making  her  husband  a 
father  for  the  first  time,  though  they  had  been  ten  years 
married.  At  such  an  emergency,  the  Laird  said,  he  feared 
his  guest  might  meet  with  some  apparent  neglect. 

'Not  so,  sir,'  said  the  stranger;  'my  wants  are  few,  and 
easily  supplied,  and  I  trust  the  present  circumstances  may 
even  afford  an  opportunity  of  showing  my  gratitude  for 
your  hospitality.  Let  me  only  request  that  I  may  be  in- 
formed of  the  exact  minute  of  the  birth;  and  I  hope  to 
be  able  to  put  you  in  possession  of  some  particulars  which 
may  influence,  in  an  important  manner,  the  future  pros- 
pects of  the  child  now  about  to  come  into  this  busy  and 
changeful  world.  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  I  am 
skilful  in  understanding  and  interpreting  the  movements 
of  those  planetary  bodies  which  exert  their  influences  on 
the  destiny  of  mortals.  It  is  a  science  which  I  do  not 
practise,  like  others,  who  call  themselves  astrologers,  for 
hire  or  reward;  for  I  have  a  competent  estate,  and  only  use 
the  knowledge  I  possess  for  the  benefit  of  those  in  whom 
I  feel  an  interest.'  The  Laird  bowed  in  respect  and 
gratitude,  and  the  stranger  was  accommodated  with  an 
apartment  which  commanded  an  ample  view  of  the  astral 
regions. 

The  guest  spent  a  part  of  the  night  in  ascertaining  the 
position  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  calculating  their  prob- 
able influence ;  until  at  length  the  result  of  his  observa- 
tions induced  him  to  send  for  the  father,  and  conjure  him, 
in  the  most  solemn  manner,  to  cause  the  assistants  to  re- 
tard the  birth,  if  practicable,  were  it  but  for  five  minutes 
The  answer  declared  this  to  be  impossible ;  and  almost  in 
the  instant  that  the  message  was  returned,  the  father  and 
his  guest  were  made  acquainted  with  the  birth  of  a  boy. 

The  Astrologer  on  the  morrow  met  the  party  who  gathered 
around  the  breakfast  table  with  looks  so  grave  and  omi- 
nous, as  to  alarm  the  fears  of  the  father,  who  had  hitherto 
exulted  in  the  prospects  held  out  by  the  birth  of  an  heir 
to  his  ancient  property,  failing  which  event  it  must  have 
passed  to  a  distant  branch  of  the  family.  He  hastened  to 
draw  the  stranger  into  a  private  room. 


GUY    MANNER IXG  3 

'I  fear  from  your  looks,'  said  the  father,  'that  you  have 
bad  tidings  to  tell  me  of  my  young  stranger:  perhaps 
God  will  resume  the  blessing  he  has  bestowed  ere  he  at- 
tains the  age  of  manhood,  or  perhaps  he  is  destined  to  be 
unworthy  of  the  affection  which  we  are  naturally  disposed 
to  devote  to  our  offspring?' 

'Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,'  answered  the  stranger: 
'unless  my  judgement  greatly  err,  the  infant  will  survive 
the  years  of  minority,  and  in  temper  and  disposition  will 
prove  all  that  his  parents  can  wish.  But  with  much  in 
his  horoscope  which  promises  many  blessings,  there  is  one 
evil  influence  strongly  predominant,  which  threatens  to 
subject  him  to  an  unhallowed  and  unhappy  temptation 
about  the  time  when  he  shall  attain  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
which  period,  the  constellations  intimate,  will  be  the  crisis 
of  his  fate.  In  what  shape,  or  with  what  peculiar  urgency, 
this  temptation  may  beset  him,  my  art  cannot  discover.' 

'Your  knowledge,  then,  can  afford  us  no  defence,'  said 
the  anxious  father,  "against  the  threatened  evil  ?' 

'Pardon  me,'  answered  the  stranger,  'it  can.  The  in- 
fluence of  the  constellations  is  powerful ;  but  He  who 
made  the  heavens  is  more  powerful  than  all,  if  His  aid  be 
invoked  in  sincerity  and  truth.  You  ought  to  dedicate 
this  boy  to  the  immediate  service  of  his  Maker,  with  as 
much  sincerity  as  Samuel  was  devoted  to  the  worship  in 
the  Temple  by  his  parents.  You  must  regard  him  as  a 
being  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  child- 
hood, in  boyhood,  you  must  surround  him  with  the  pious 
and  virtuous,  and  protect  him,  to  the  utmost  of  your  power, 
from  the  sight  or  hearing  of  any  crime,  in  word  or  action. 
He  must  be  educated  in  religious  and  moral  principles  of 
the  strictest  description.  Let  him  not  enter  the  world,  lest 
he  learn  to  partake  of  its  follies,  or  perhaps  of  its  vices. 
In  short,  preserve  him  as  far  as  possible  from  all  sin. 
save  that  of  which  too  great  a  portion  belongs  to  all  the 
fallen  race  of  Adam.  With  the  approach  of  his  twenty- 
first  birthday  comes  llie  crisis  of  his  fate.  If  he  survive  it, 
he  will  be  happy  and  prosperous  on  earth,  and  a  chosen 
vessel  among  those  elected  for  heaven.  But  if  it  be 
otherwise' — The   Astrologer  stopped,  and  sighed  deeply. 


4  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Sir,'  replied  the  parent,  still  more  alarmed  than  before, 
'your  words  are  so  kind,  your  advice  so  serious,  that  I  will 
pay  the  deepest  attention  to  your  behests.  But  can  you 
not  aid  me  further  in  this  most  important  concern?  Be- 
lieve me,  I  will  not  be  ungrateful.' 

'I  require  and  deserve  no  gratitude  for  doing  a  good 
action,'  said  the  stranger,  'in  especial  for  contributing  all 
that  lies  in  my  power  to  save  from  an  abhorred  fate  the 
harmless  infant  to  whom,  under  a  singular  conjunction  of 
planets,  last  night  gave  life.  There  is  my  address;  you 
may  write  to  me  from  time  to  time  concerning  the  progress 
of  the  boy  in  religious  knowledge.  If  he  be  bred  up  as 
I  advise,  I  think  it  will  be  best  that  he  come  to  my  house 
at  the  time  when  the  fatal  and  decisive  period  approaches, 
that  is,  before  he  has  attained  his  twenty-first  year  com- 
plete. If  you  send  him  such  as  I  desire,  I  humbly  trust 
that  God  will  protect  His  own,  through  whatever  strong 
temptation  his  fate  may  subject  him  to.'  He  then  gave 
his  host  his  address,  which  was  a  country-seat  near  a  post- 
town  in  the  south  of  England,  and  bid  him  an  affectionate 
farewell. 

The  mysterious  stranger  departed,  but  his  words  remained 
impressed  upon  the  mind  of  the  anxious  parent.  He  lost 
his  lady  while  his  boy  was  still  in  infancy.  This  calamity, 
I  think,  had  been  predicted  by  the  Astrologer;  and  thus 
his  confidence,  which,  like  most  people  of  the  period,  he 
had  freely  given  to  the  science,  was  riveted  and  confirmed. 
The  utmost  care,  therefore,  was  taken  to  carry  into  effect 
the  severe  and  almost  ascetic  plan  of  education  which  the 
sage  had  enjoined.  A  tutor  of  the  strictest  principles 
was  employed  to  superintend  the  youth's  education;  he  was 
surrounded  by  domestics  of  the  most  established  character, 
and  closely  watched  and  looked  after  by  the  anxious  father 
himself. 

The  years  of  infancy,  childhood,  and  boyhood,  passed 
as  the  father  could  have  wished.  A  young  Nazarene  could 
not  have  been  bred  up  with  more  rigour.  All  that  was 
evil  was  withheld  from  his  observations; — he  only  heard 
what  was  pure  in  precept — he  only  witnessed  what  was 
worthy  in  practice. 


GUY    MANNERTXG  5 

But  when  the  boy  began  to  be  lost  in  youth,  the  attentive 
father  saw  cause  for  alarm.  Shades  of  sadness,  which 
gradually  assumed  a  darker  character,  began  to  over- 
cloud the  young  man's  temper.  Tears,  which  seemed  in- 
voluntary, broken  sleep,  moonlight  wanderings,  and  a 
melancholy  for  which  he  could  assign  no  reason,  seemed 
to  threaten  at  once  his  bodily  health,  and  the  stability  of 
his  mind.  The  Astrologer  was  consulted  by  letter,  and 
returned  for  answer,  that  this  fitful  state  of  mind  was  but 
the  commencement  of  his  trial,  and  that  the  poor  youth 
must  undergo  more  and  more  desperate  struggles  with  the 
evil  that  assailed  him.  There  was  no  hope  of  remedy, 
save  that  he  showed  steadiness  of  mind  in  the  study  of 
the  Scriptures.  'He  suffers,'  continued  the  letter  of  the 
sage,  'from  awakening  of  those  harpies,  the  passions,  which 
have  slept  with  him  as  with  others,  till  the  period  of  life 
which  he  has  now  attained.  Better,  far  better,  that  they 
torment  him  by  ungrateful  cravings,  than  that  he  should 
have  to  repent  having  satiated  them  by  criminal  indulgence.' 

The  dispositions  of  the  young  man  were  so  excellent 
that  he  combated,  by  reason  and  religion,  the  fits  of  gloom 
which  at  times  overcast  his  mind,  and  it  was  not  till  he 
attained  the  commencement  of  his  twenty-first  year,  that 
they  assumed  a  character  which  made  his  father  tremble 
for  the  consequences.  It  seemed  as  if  the  gloomiest 
and  most  hideous  of  mental  maladies  was  taking  the  form 
of  religious  despair.  Still  the  youth  was  gentle,  courteous, 
affectionate,  and  submissive  to  his  father's  will,  and  re- 
sisted with  all  his  power  the  dark  suggestions  which  were 
breathed  into  his  mind,  as  it  seem.ed,  by  some  emanation 
of  the  Evil  Principle,  exhorting  him,  like  the  wicked  wife 
of  Job,  to  curse  God  and  die. 

The  time  at  length  arrived  when  he  was  to  perform  what 
was  then  thought  a  long  and  somewhat  perilous  journey, 
to  the  mansion  of  the  early  friend  who  had  calculated 
his  nativity.  His  road  lay  through  several  places  of  in- 
terest, and  he  enjoyed  the  amusement  of  travelling,  more 
than  he  himself  thought  would  have  been  possible.  Thus 
he  did  not  reach  the  place  of  his  destination  till  noon  on 
the  day  preceding  his   birthday.     It  seemed  as  if  he   had 


6  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

been  carried  away  with  a«  unwonted  tide  of  pleasurable 
sensation,  so  as  to  forget,  in  some  degree,  what  his 
father  had  communicated  concerning  the  purpose  of  his 
journey.  He  halted  at  length  before  a  respectable  but  soli- 
tary old  mansion,  to  which  he  was  directed  as  the  abode 
of  his   father's  friend. 

The  servants  who  came  to  take  his  horse,  told  him  he 
had  been  expected  for  two  days.  He  was  led  into  a  stiidy 
where  the  stranger,  now  a  venerable  old  man,  who  had 
been  his  father's  guest,  met  him  with  a  shade  of  displeas- 
ure, as  well  as  gravity,  on  his  brow.  'Young  man,'  he 
said,  'wherefore  so  slow  on  a  journey  of  such  importance?' 
— 'I  thought,'  replied  the  guest,  blushing  and  looking  down- 
ward, 'that  there  was  no  harm  in  travelling  slowly,  and 
satisfying  my  curiosity,  providing  I  could  reach  your 
residence  by  this  day ;  for  such  was  my  father's  charge.' — 
'You  were  to  blame,'  replied  the  sage,  'in  lingering,  con- 
sidering that  the  avenger  of  blood  was  pressing  on  your 
footsteps.  But  you  are  come  at  last,  and  we  will  hope  for 
the  best,  though  the  conflict  in  which  you  are  to  be  engaged 
will  be  found  more  dreadful  the  longer  it  is  postponed. 
But  first  accept  of  such  refreshments  as  nature  requires 
to  satisfy,  but  not  to  pamper,  the  appetite.' 

The  old  man  led  the  way  into  a  summer-parlour,  where 
a  frugal  meal  was  placed  on  the  table.  y\s  they  sat  down 
to  the  board,  they  were  joined  by  a  young  lady  about 
eighteen  years  of  age,  and  so  lovely,  that  the  sight  of  her 
carried  off  the  feelings  of  the  young  stranger  from  the 
peculiarity  and  mystery  of  his  own  lot,  and  riveted  his 
attention  to  everything  she  did  or  said.  She  spoke  little, 
and  it  was  on  the  most  serious  subjects.  She  played  on 
the  harpsichord  at  her  father's  command,  but  it  was  hymns 
with  which  she  accompanied  the  instrument.  At  length, 
on  a  sign  from  the  sage,  she  left  the  room,  turning  on  the 
young  stranger,  as  she  departed,  a  look  of  inexpressible 
anxiety  and  interest. 

The  old  man  then  conducted  the  youth  to  his  study,  and 
conversed  with  him  upon  the  most  important  points  of 
religion,  to  satisfy  himself  that  he  could  render  a  reason 
for  the   faith   that   was   in  him.      During   the   examination, 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  7 

the  youth,  in  spite  of  himself,  felt  his  mind  occasionally 
wander,  and  his  recollections  go  in  quest  of  the  beautiful 
vision  who  had  shared  their  meal  at  noon.  On  such  oc- 
casions the  Astrologer  looked  grave,  and  shook  his  head 
at  this  relaxation  of  attention;  yet,  on  the  whole,  he  was 
pleased  with  the  youth's  replies. 

At  sunset  the  young  man  was  made  to  take  the  bath ; 
and  having  done  so,  he  was  directed  to  attire  himself  in 
a  robe  somewhat  like  that  worn  by  Armenians,  having  his 
long  hair  combed  down  on  his  shoulders,  and  his  neck, 
hands,  and  feet  bare.  In  this  guise  he  was  conducted 
into  a  remote  chamber  totally  devoid  of  furniture,  except- 
ing a  lamp,  a  chair,  and  a  table,  on  which  lay  a  Bible.  'Here,' 
said  the  Astrologer,  'I  must  leave  you  alone,  to  pass  the 
most  critical  period  of  your  life.  If  you  can,  b}'  recollec- 
tion of  the  great  truths  of  which  we  have  spoken,  repel 
the  attacks  which  will  be  made  on  your  courage  and  your 
principles,  you  have  nothing  to  apprehend.  But  the  trial 
will  be  severe  and  arduous.'  His  features  then  assumed 
a  pathetic  solemnity,  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  his 
voice  faltered  with  emotion  as  he  said,  'Dear  child,  at 
whose  coming  into  the  world  I  foresaw  this  fatal  trial,  may 
God  give  thee  grace   to   support   it  with   firmness !' 

The  young  man  was  left  alone ;  and  hardly  did  he  find 
himself  so,  when,  like  a  swarm  of  demons,  the  recollection 
of  all  his  sins  of  omission  and  commission,  rendered  even 
more  terrible  by  the  scrupulousness  with  which  he  had  been 
educated,  rushed  on  his  mind,  and,  like  furies  armed  with 
fiery  scourges,  seemed  determined  to  drive  him  to  despair. 
As  he  combated  these  horrible  recollections  with  distracted 
feelings,  but  with  a  resolved  mind,  he  became  aware  that 
his  arguments  were  answered  by  the  sophistr\-  of  another, 
and  that  the  dispute  was  no  longer  confined  to  his  own 
thoughts.  The  Author  of  Evil  was  present  in  the  room 
with  him  in  bodily  shape,  and,  potent  with  spirits  of  a 
melancholy  cast,  was  impressing  upon  him  the  desperation 
of  his  state,  and  urging  suicide  as  the  readiest  mode  to  put 
an  end  to  his  sinful  career.  Amid  his  errors,  the  pleasure 
he  had  taken  in  prolonging  his  journey  unnecessarily,  and 
the  attention  which  he  had  bestowed  on  the  beautv  of  the 


8  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

fair  female,  when  his  thoughts  ought  to  have  been  dedicated 
to  the  religious  discourse  of  her  father,  were  set  before  him 
in  the  darkest  colours ;  and  he  was  treated  as  one  who, 
having  sinned  against  light,  was  therefore  deservedly  left 
a  prey  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness. 

As  the  fated  and  influential  hour  rolled  on,  the  terrors  of 
the  hateful  Presence  grew  more  confounding  to  the  mortal 
senses  of  the  victim,  and  the  knot  of  the  accursed  sophistry 
became  more  inextricable  in  appearance,  at  least  to  the 
prey  whom  its  meshes  surrounded.  He  had  not  power  to 
explain  the  assurance  of  pardon  which  he  continued  to 
assert,  or  to  name  the  victorious  name  in  which  he  trusted. 
But  his  faith  did  not  abandon  him,  though  he  lacked  for 
a  time  the  power  of  expressing  it.  'Say  what  you  will,' 
was  his  answer  to  the  Tempter — T  know  there  is  as  much 
betwixt  the  two  boards  of  this  Book  as  can  insure  me 
forgiveness  for  my  transgressions,  and  safety  for  my  soul.' 
As  he  spoke,  the  clock,  which  announced  the  lapse  of  the 
fatal  hour,  was  heard  to  strike.  The  speech  and  intellectual 
powers  of  the  youth  were  instantly  and  fully  restored ; 
he  burst  forth  into  prayer,  and  expressed,  in  the  most  glow- 
ing terms,  his  reliance  on  the  truth  and  on  the  Author  of 
the  gospel.  The  demon  retired,  yelling  and  discomfited, 
and  the  old  man,  entering  the  apartment,  with  tears 
congratulated  his  guest  on  his  victory  in  the  fated 
struggle. 

The  young  man  was  afterwards  married  to  the  beautiful 
maiden,  the  first  sight  of  whom  had  made  such  an  impression 
on  him,  and  they  were  consigned  over  at  the  close  of  the 
story  to  domestic  happiness. — So  ended  John  Mac-Kinlay's 
legend. 

The  author  of  Waverlcy  had  imagined  a  possibility  of 
framing  an  interesting,  and  perhaps  not  an  unedifying  tale, 
out  of  the  incidents  of  the  life  01  u  doomed  individual, 
whose  efforts  at  good  and  virtuous  >  onduct  were  to  be  for 
ever  disappointed  by  the  interventi^' :,  as  it  were,  of  some 
malevolent  being,  and  who  was  a  'ast  to  come  oflf  vic- 
torious from  the  fearful  struggle,  j'l  short,  something  was 
meditated  upon  a  plan  resembling  he  imaginative  tale  of 
Sintram   and  his   Companions,  by  Mons.   Le   Baron   de   la 


GUY    MANNERING  9 

Motte  Fouque, — although,  if  it  then  existed,  the  author 
had  not  seen  it. 

The  scheme  projected  may  be  traced  in  the  three  or  four 
first  chapters  of  the  work,  but  further  consideration  induced 
the  author  to  lay  his  purpose  aside.  It  appeared,  on 
mature  consideration,  that  Astrology,  though  its  influence 
was  once  received  and  admitted  by  Bacon  himself,  does 
not  now  retain  influence  over  the  general  mind  sufficient 
even  to  constitute  the  mainspring  of  a  romance.  Besides, 
it  occurred,  that  to  do  justice  to  such  a  subject  would  have 
required  not  only  more  talent  than  the  author  could  be 
conscious  of  possessing,  but  also  involved  doctrines  and 
discussions  of  a  nature  too  serious  for  his  purpose,  and  for 
the  character  of  the  narrative.  In  changing  his  plan. 
however,  which  was  done  in  the  course  of  printing,  the 
early  sheets  retained  the  vestiges  of  the  original  tenor  of 
the  story,  although  they  now  hang  upon  it  as  an  unnecessary 
and  unnatural  encumbrance.  The  cause  of  such  vestiges 
occurring  is  now  explained,  and  apologized  for. 

It  is  here  worthy  of  observation,  that  while  the  astrological 
doctrines  have  fallen  into  general  contempt,  and  been  sup- 
planted by  superstitions  of  a  more  gross  and  far  less  beautiful 
character,  they  have,  even  in  modern  days,  retained  some 
votaries. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  believers  in  that  forgotten 
and  despised  science,  was  a  late  eminent  professor  of  the  art 
of  legerdemain.  One  would  have  thought  that  a  person 
of  this  description  ought,  from  his  knowledge  of  the  thousand 
ways  in  which  human  eyes  could  be  deceived,  to  have  been 
less  than  others  subject  to  the  fantasies  of  sui)erstition. 
Perhaps  the  habitual  use  of  those  abstruse  calculations,  by 
which,  in  a  manner  surprising  to  the  artist  himself,  many 
tricks  upon  cards,  &c.,  are  performed,  induced  this  gentle- 
man to  study  the  combination  of  the  stars  and  planets,  with 
the  expectation  of  obtaining  prophetic  communications. 

He  constructed  a  scheme  of  his  own  nativity,  calculated 
according  to  such  rules  of  art  as  he  could  collect  from  the 
best  astrological  authors.  The  result  of  the  past  he  found 
agreeable  to  what  had  hitherto  befallen  him,  but  in  the 
important    prospect    of    the    future    a    singular    difficulty 


10  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

occurred.  There  were  two  years,  during  the  course  of  which 
he  could  by  no  means  obtain  any  exact  knowledge  whether 
the  subject  of  the  scheme  would  be  dead  or  alive.  Anxious 
concerning  so  remarkable  a  circumstance,  he  gave  the 
scheme  to  a  brother  Astrologer,  who  was  also  baffled  in  the 
same  manner.  At  one  period  he  found  the  native,  or  sub- 
ject, was  certainly  alive — at  another,  that  he  was  unques- 
tionably dead;  but  a  space  of  two  years  extended  between 
these  two  terms,  during  which  he  could  find  no  certainty 
as  to  his  death  or  existence. 

The  Astrologer  marked  the  remarkable  circumstance  in  his 
Diary,  and  continued  his  exhibitions  in  various  parts  of 
the  empire,  until  the  period  was  about  to  expire,  during 
which  his  existence  had  been  warranted  as  actually  ascer- 
tained. At  last,  while  he  was  exhibiting  to  a  numerous 
audience  his  usual  tricks  of  legerdemain,  the  hands,  whose 
activity  had  so  often  baffled  the  closest  observer,  suddenly 
lost  their  power,  the  cards  dropped  from  them,  and  he  sunk 
down  a  disabled  paralytic.  In  this  state  the  artist  lan- 
guished for  two  years,  when  he  was  at  length  removed  by 
death.  It  is  said  that  the  Diary  of  this  modern  Astrologer 
will  soon  be  given  to  the  public. 

The  fact,  if  truly  reported,  is  one  of  those  singular  co- 
incidences which  occasionally  appear,  differing  so  widely 
from  ordinary  calculation,  yet  without  which  irregularities, 
human  life  would  not  present  to  mortals,  looking  into 
futurity,  the  abyss  of  impenetrable  darkness  which  it  is 
the  pleasure  of  the  Creator  it  should  offer  to  them.  Were 
everything  to  happen  in  the  ordinary  train  of  events,  the 
future  would  be  subject  to  the  rules  of  arithmetic,  like  the 
chances  of  gaming.  But  extraordinary  events,  and  wonder- 
ful runs  of  luck,  defy  the  calculations  of  mankind,  and  throw 
impenetrable  darkness  on  future  contingencies. 

To  the  above  anecdote,  another,  still  more  recent,  may 
be  here  added.  The  author  was  lately  honoured  with  a 
letter  from  a  gentleman  deeply  skilled  in  these  mysteries, 
who  kindly  undertook  to  calculate  the  nativity  of  the  writer 
of  Guy  Manncring,  who  might  be  supposed  to  be  friendly 
to  the  divine  art  which  he  professed.  But  it  was  im- 
possible to  supply  data  for  the  construction  of  a  horoscope, 

D— I 


GUY    MANNERING  11 

had  the  native  been  otherwise  desirous  of  it,  since  all  those 
who  could  supply  the  minutiae  of  day,  hour,  and  minute, 
have  been  long  removed  from  the  mortal  sphere. 

Having  thus  given  some  account  of  the  first  idea,  or  rude 
sketch,  of  the  story,  which  was  soon  departed  from,  the 
author,  in  following  out  the  plan  of  the  present  edition,  has 
to  mention  the  prototypes  of  the  principal  characters  in 
Guy  Manncring. 

Some  circumstances  of  local  situation  gave  the  author, 
in  his  youth,  an  opportunity  of  seeing  a  little,  and  hearing 
a  great  deal,  about  that  degraded  class  who  are  called  gipsies ; 
who  are  in  most  cases  a  mixed  race,  between  the  ancient 
Egyptians  who  arrived  in  Europe  about  the  beginning  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  vagrants  of  European  descent. 

The  individual  gipsy  upon  whom  the  character  of  Aleg 
Merrilies  was  founded,  was  well  known  about  the  middle  of 
the  last  century,  by  the  name  of  Jean  Gordon,  an  inhabitant 
of  the  village  of  Kirk  Yetholm,  in  the  Cheviot  hills,  adjoin- 
ing to  the  English  Border.  The  author  gave  the  public 
some  account  of  this  remarkable  person,  in  one  of  the 
early  numbers  of  Blackwood's  Magazine,  to  the  following 
purpose : — 

'My  father  remembered  old  Jean  Gordon  of  Yetholm, 
who  had  great  sway  among  her  tribe.  She  was  quite 
a  Meg  Merrilies,  and  possessed  the  savage  virtue  of  fidelity 
in  the  same  perfection.  Having  been  often  hospitably  re- 
ceived at  the  farm-house  of  Lochside,  near  Yetholm,  she 
had  carefully  abstained  from  committing  any  depredations 
on  the  farmer's  property.  But  her  sons  (nine  in  num- 
ber) had  not,  it  seems,  the  same  delicacy,  and  stole  a 
brood-sow  from  their  kind  entertainer.  Jean  was  mortified 
at  this  ungrateful  conduct,  and  so  much  ashamed  of 
it,  that  she  absented  herself  from  Lochside  for  several 
years. 

'It  happened,  in  course  of  time,  that  in  consequence  of 
some  temporary  pecuniary  necessity,  the  Goodman  of 
Lochside  was  obliged  to  go  to  Newcastle  to  raise  some 
money  to  pay  his  rent.  He  succeeded  in  his  purpose,  but 
returning  through  the  mountains  of  Cheviot,  he  was  be- 
nighted and  lost  his  way. 

D— 2 


13  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

*A  light,  glimmering  through  the  window  of  a  large 
waste  barn,  which  had  survived  the  farm-house  to  which 
it  had  once  belonged,  guided  him  to  a  place  of  shelter ; 
and  when  he  knocked  at  the  door,  it  was  opened  by  Jean 
Gordon.  Her  very  remarkable  figure,  for  she  was  nearly 
six  feet  high,  and  her  equally  remarkable  features  and  dress, 
rendered  it  impossible  to  mistake  her  for  a  moment,  though 
he  had  not  seen  her  for  years;  and  to  meet  with  such 
a  character  in  so  solitary  a  place,  and  probably  at  no  great 
distance  from  her  clan,  was  a  grievous  surprise  to  the  poor 
man,  whose  rent  (to  lose  which  would  have  been  ruin)  was 
about  his  person. 

'Jean  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  joyful  recognition — "Eh, 
sirs  !  the  winsome  Gudeman  of  Lochside  !  Light  down,  light 
down;  for  ye  mauna  gang  further  the  night,  and  a  friend's 
house  sae  near."  The  farmer  was  obliged  to  dismount, 
and  accept  of  the  gipsy's  offer  of  supper  and  a  bed.  There 
was  plenty  of  meat  in  the  barn,  however  it  might  be  come 
by,  and  preparations  were  going  on  for  a  plentiful  repast, 
which  the  farmer,  to  the  great  increase  of  his  anxiety, 
observed  was  calculated  for  ten  or  twelve  guests,  of  the 
same  description,  probably,  with  his  landlady. 

'Jean  left  him  in  no  doubt  on  the  subject.  She  brought 
to  his  recollection  the  story  of  the  stolen  sow,  and  mentioned 
how  much  pain  and  vexation  it  had  given  her.  Like 
other  philosophers,  she  remarked  that  the  world  grew 
worse  daily;  and,  like  other  parents,  that  the  bairns  got 
out  of  her  guiding,  and  neglected  the  old  gipsy  regulations, 
which  commanded  them  to  respect,  in  their  depredations, 
the  property  of  their  benefactors.  The  end  of  all  this  was, 
an  inquiry  what  money  the  farmer  had  about  him,  and  an 
urgent  request,  or  command,  that  he  would  make  her  his 
purse-keeper,  since  the  bairns,  as  she  called  her  sons,  would 
be  soon  home.  The  poor  farmer  made  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
told  his  story,  and  surrendered  his  gold  to  Jean's  custody. 
She  made  him  put  a  few  shillings  in  his  pocket,  observing 
it  would  excite  suspicion  should  he  be  found  travelling 
altogether  penniless.  ' 

'This  arrangement  being  made,  the  farmer  lay  down  on 
a  sort  of  shake-down,  as  the  Scotch  call  it,  or  bed-clothes 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  13 

disposed  upon  some  straw,  but,  as  will  easily  be  believed, 
slept  not. 

'About  midnight  the  gang  returned,  with  various  articles 
of  plunder,  and  talked  over  their  exploits  in  language  which 
made  the  farmer  tremble.  They  were  not  long  in  discover- 
ing they  had  a  guest,  and  demanded  of  Jean  whom  she  had 
got  there. 

*  ''E'en  the  winsome  Gudeman  of  Lochside,  poor  body." 
replied  Jean ;  '"he's  been  at  Newcastle  seeking  siller  to 
pay  his  rent,  honest  man,  but  deil-be-lickit  he's  been  able 
to  gather  in,  and  sae  he's  gaun  e'en  hame  wi'  a  toom  purse 
and  a  sair  heart." 

*  "That  may  be,  Jean,"  replied  one  of  the  banditti, 
"but  we  maun  ripe  his  pouches  a  bit,  and  see  if  the  tale 
be  true  or  no."  Jean  set  up  her  throat  in  exclamations 
against  this  breach  of  hospitality,  but  without  producing 
any  change  in  their  determination.  The  farmer  soon 
heard  their  stifled  whispers  and  light  steps  by  his  bedside, 
and  understood  they  were  rummaging  his  clothes.  When 
they  found  the  money  which  the  providence  of  Jean  Gordon 
had  made  him  retain,  they  held  a  consultation  if  they  should 
take  it  or  no ;  but  the  smallness  of  the  booty,  and  the 
vehemence  of  Jean's  remonstrances,  determined  them  in 
the  negative. 

They  caroused  and  went  to  rest.  As  soon  as  day 
dawned,  Jean  roused  her  guest,  produced  his  horse,  which 
she  had  accommodated  behind  the  kalian,  and  guided  him 
for  some  miles,  till  he  was  on  the  high-road  to  Lochside. 
She  then  restored  his  whole  property,  nor  could  his  earnest 
entreaties  prevail  on  her  to  accept  so  much  as  a  single 
guinea. 

'I  have  heard  the  old  people  at  Jedburgh  say,  that  all 
Jean's  sons  were  condemned  to  die  there  on  the  same  day. 
It  is  said  the  jury  were  equally  divided,  but  that  a  friend 
to  justice,  who  had  slept  during  the  whole  discussion,  waked 
suddenly,  and  gave  his  vote  for  condemnation,  in  the 
emphatic  words,  "Hang  them  a'!"  Unanimity  is  not 
required  in  a  Scottish  jury,  so  the  verdict  of  guilty  was 
returned.  Jean  was  present,  and  only  said,  "The  Lord 
help  the  innocent  in  a  day  like  this !"    Her  own  death  was 


14  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

accompanied  with  circumstances  of  brutal  outrage,  of  which 
poor  Jean  was  in  many  respects  wholly  undeserving.  She 
had,  among  other  demerits,  or  merits,  as  the  reader  may 
choose  to  rank  it,  that  of  being  a  stanch  Jacobite.  She 
chanced  to  be  at  Carlisle  upon  a  fair  or  market-day,  soon 
after  the  year  1746,  where  she  gave  vent  to  her  political 
partiality,  to  the  great  offence  of  the  rabble  of  that  city. 
Being  zealous  in  their  loyalty  when  there  was  no  danger, 
in  proportion  to  the  tameness  with  which  they  had  sur- 
rendered to  the  Highlanders  in  1745,  the  mob  inflicted  upon 
poor  Jean  Gordon  no  slighter  penalty  than  that  of  ducking 
her  to  death  in  the  Eden.  It  was  an  operation  of  some  time, 
for  Jean  was  a  stout  woman,  and,  struggling  with  heV 
murderers,  often  got  her  head  above  water;  and,  while 
she  had  voice  left,  continued  to  exclaim  at  such  intervals, 
"Charlie  yet!  Charlie  yet!"  When  a  child,  and  among  the 
scenes  which  she  frequented,  I  have  often  heard  these 
stories,  and  cried  piteously  for  poor  Jean  Gordon. 

'Before  quitting  the  Border  gipsies,  I  may  mention  that 
my  grandfather,  while  riding  over  Charterhouse  moor,  then 
a  very  extensive  common,  fell  suddenly  among  a  large 
band  of  them,  who  were  carousing  in  a  hollow  of  the  moor, 
surrounded  by  bushes.  They  instantly  seized  on  his  horse's 
bridle  with  many  shouts  of  welcome,  exclaiming  (for  he 
was  well  known  to  most  of  them)  that  they  had  often  dined 
at  his  expense,  and  he  must  now  stay  and  share  their  good 
cheer.  My  ancestor  was  a  little  alarmed,  for,  like  the 
Goodman  of  Lochside,  he  had  more  money  about  his  person 
than  he  cared  to  risk  in  such  society.  However,  being 
naturally  a  bold  lively-spirited  man,  he  entered  into  the 
humour  of  the  thing,  and  sat  down  to  the  feast,  which 
consisted  of  all  the  varieties  of  game,  poultry,  pigs,  and  so 
forth,  that  could  be  collected  by  a  wide  and  indiscriminate 
system  of  plunder.  The  dinner  was  a  very  merry  one; 
but  my  relative  got  a  hint  from  some  of  the  older  gipsies 
to  retire  just  when — 

The  mirth  and  fun  grew  fast  and  furious; 

and  mounting  his  horse,  accordingly,  he  took  a  French 
leave   of    his    entertainers    but    without    experiencing   the 


GUY    MANNERING  15 

least  breach  of  hospitality.     I  believe  Jean  Gordon  was  at 
this   festival.' — (Blackwood's  Maga::ine,  vol.   i,  p.   54.) 
Notwithstanding  the  failure  of  Jean's  issue,  for  which 

Weary   fa'    the   waefu'   wuddie, 

a  grand-daughter  survived  her  whom  I  remember  to  have 
seen.  That  is,  as  Dr.  Johnson  had  a  shadowy  recollection 
of  Queen  Anne,  as  a  stately  lady  in  black  adorned  with 
diamonds,  so  my  memory  is  haunted  by  a  solemn  remem- 
brance of  a  woman  of  more  than  female  height,  dressed  in 
a  long  red  cloak,  who  commenced  acquaintance  by  giving 
me  an  apple,  but  whom,  nevertheless,  I  looked  on  with  as 
much  awe  as  the  future  Doctor.  High  Church  and  Tory  as 
he  was  doomed  to  be,  could  look  upon  the  Queen.  T  con- 
ceive this  woman  to  have  been  Madge  Gordon,  of  whom 
an  impressive  account  is  given  in  the  same  article  in  which 
her  mother  Jean  is  mentioned,  but  not  by  the  present 
writer : — 

'The  late  Madge  Gordon  was  at  this  time  accounted  the  Queen  of 
the  Yetholm  clans.  She  was,  we  believe,  a  granddaughter  of  the 
celebrated  Jean  Gordon,  and  was  said  to  have  much  resembled  her 
in  appearance.  The  following  account  of  her  is  extracted  from  the 
letter  of  a  friend,  who  for  many  years  enjoyed  frequent  and  favour- 
able opportunities  of  observing  the  characteristic  peculiarities  of  the 
Yetholm  tribes : — "Madge  Gordon  was  descended  from  the  Faas  by 
the  mother's  side,  and  was  married  to  a  Young.  She  was  a  remark- 
able personage — of  a  very  commanding  presence,  and  high  stature, 
being  nearly  six  feet  high.  She  had  a  large  aquiline  nose, — pene- 
trating eyes,  even  in  her  old  age, — bu.shy  hair,  that  hung  around 
her  shoulders  from  beneath  a  gipsy  bonnet  of  straw, — a  short  cloak 
of  a  peculiar  fashion,  and  a  long  staff  nearly  as  tall  as  herself. 
I  remember  her  well ; — every  week  she  paid  my  father  a  visit  for 
her  awmous,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and  I  looked  upon  Madge  with 
no  common  degree  of  awe  and  terror.  When  she  spoke  vehemently 
(for  she  made  loud  complaints)  she  used  to  strike  her  staft'  upon 
the  floor,  and  throw  herself  into  an  attitude  which  it  was  impossible 
to  regard  with  indifference.  She  used  to  say  that  she  could  bring, 
from  the  remotest  parts  of  the  island,  friends  to  revenge  her  quarrel, 
while  she  sat  motionless  in  her  cottage  ;  and  she  frequently  boasted 
that  there  was  a  time  when  she  was  of  still  more  considerable  im- 
portance, for  there  were  at  her  wedding  fifty  saddled  asses,  and 
unsaddled  asses  without  number.  If  Jean  Gordon  was  the  prototype 
of  the  character  of  Meg  Merrilies,  I  imagine  Madge  must  have  sat 
to  the  unknown  author  as  the  representative  of  her  person."  ' — 
{Blackii'ood's  Magazine,  vol.  i,  p.  56.) 


IG  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

How  far  Blackwood's  ingenious  correspondent  was  right, 
how  far  mistaken,  in  his  conjecture,  the  reader  has  been 
informed. 

To  pass  to  a  character  of  a  very  different  description, 
Dominie  Sampson,  the  reader  may  easily  suppose  that  a 
poor  modest  humble  scholar,  who  has  won  his  way  through 
the  classics,  yet  has  fallen  to  leeward  in  the  voyage  of  life, 
is  no  uncommon  personage  in  a  country  where  a  certain 
portion  of  learning  is  easily  attained  by  those  who  are 
willing  to  suffer  hunger  and  thirst  in  exchange  for  acquiring 
Greek  and  Latin.  But  there  is  a  far  more  exact  prototype 
of  the  worthy  Dominie,  upon  which  is  founded  the  part 
which  he  performs  in  the  romance,  and  which,  for  certain 
particular  reasons,  must  be  expressed  very  generally. 

Such  a  preceptor  as  Mr,  Sampson  is  supposed  to  have 
been,  was  actually  tutor  in  the  family  of  a  gentleman  of 
considerable  property.  The  young  lads,  his  pupils,  grew 
up  and  went  out  in  the  world;  but  the  tutor  continued  to 
reside  in  the  family,  no  uncommon  circumstance  in  Scotland 
(in  former  days),  where  food  and  shelter  were  readily 
aft'orded  to  humble  friends  and  dependants.  The  Laird's 
predecessors  had  been  imprudent ;  he  himself  was  passive 
and  unfortunate.  Death  swept  away  his  sons,  whose 
success  in  life  might  have  balanced  his  own  bad  luck  and 
incapacity.  Debts  increased  and  funds  diminished,  until 
ruin  came.  The  estate  was  sold;  and  the  old  man  was 
about  to  remove  from  the  house  of  his  fathers,  to  go  he  knew 
not  whither,  when,  like  an  old  piece  of  furniture,  which, 
left  alone  in  its  wonted  corner,  may  hold  together  for 
a  long  while,  but  breaks  to  pieces  on  an  attempt  to  move  it, 
he  fell  down  on  his  own  threshold  under  a  paralytic  affection. 

The  tutor  awakened  as  from  a  dream.  He  saw  his 
patron  dead,  and  that  his  patron's  only  remaining  child,  an 
elderly  woman,  now  neither  graceful  nor  beautiful,  if  she  had 
ever  been  either  the  one  or  the  other,  had  by  this  calamity  be- 
come a  homeless  and  penniless  orphan.  He  addressed  her 
nearly  in  the  words  which  Dominie  Sampson  uses  to  Miss 
Bertram,  and  professed  his  determination  not  to  leave  her. 
Accordingly,  roused  to  the  exercise  of  talents  which  had 
long  slumbered,  he  opened  a  little  school,  and  supported  his 


GUY    MANXERING  17 

patron's  child  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  treating  her  with  the 
same  humble  observance  and  devoted  attention  which  he  had 
used  towards  her  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity. 

Such  is  the  outline  of  Dominie  Sampson's  real  story,  in 
which  there  is  neither  romantic  incident  nor  sentimental 
passion ;  but  which,  perhaps,  from  the  rectitude  and  sim- 
plicity of  character  which  it  displays,  may  interest  the  heart 
and  fill  the  eye  of  the  reader  as  irresistibly  as  if  it  respected 
distresses  of  a  more  dignified  or  refined  character. 

These  preliminary  notices  concerning  the  tale  of  Guy 
Mannering,  and  some  of  the  characters  introduced,  may 
save  the  author  and  reader,  in  the  present  instance,  the 
trouble  of  writing  and  perusing  a  long  string  of  detached 
notes. 

I  may  add  that  the  motto  of  this  Novel  was  taken  from 
the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  to  evade  the  conclusions  of 
those  who  began  to  think  that,  as  the  author  of  Waverlcy 
never  quoted  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  he  must  have 
reason  for  doing  so,  and  that  the  circumstances  might  argue 
an  identity  between  them. 

Abbotsford,  August  i,  1829. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTE 

GALWEGIAN     LOCALITIES     AND      PERSONAGES     WHICH 

HAVE   BEEN    SUPPOSED   TO    BE   ALLUDED 

TO    IN   THE   NOVEL 

AX  old  English  proverb  says,  that  more  know  Tom  Fool 
l\  than  Tom  Fool  knows ;  and  the  influence  of  the  adage 
-^-*-  seems  to  extend  to  works  composed  under  the  influ- 
ence of  an  idle  or  foolish  planet.  Many  corresponding  cir- 
cumstances are  detected  by  readers,  of  which  the  author  did 
not  suspect  the  existence.  He  must,  however,  regard  it  as  a 
great  compliment,  that,  in  detailing  incidents  purely  imag- 
inary, he  has  been  so  fortunate  in  approximating  reality  as  to 
remind  his  readers  of  actual  occurrences.  It  is  therefore 
with  pleasure  he  notices  some  pieces  of  local  history  and 
tradition,  which  have  been  supposed  to  coincide  with  the 
fictitious  persons,  incidents,  and  scenery  of  Guy  Manncriiig. 

The  prototype  of  Dirk  Hatteraick  is  considered  as  having 
been  a  Dutch  skipper  called  Yawkins.  This  man  was  well 
known  on  the  coast  of  Galloway  and  Dumfriesshire,  as  sole 
proprietor  and  master  of  a  Bnckkar,  or  smuggling  lugger, 
called  The  Black  Prince.  Being  distinguished  by  his  nau- 
tical skill  and  intrepidity,  his  vessel  was  frequently  freighted, 
and  his  own  services  employed,  by  French,  Dutch,  Manx, 
and  Scottish  smuggling  companies. 

A  person  well  known  by  the  name  of  Ruckkar-Tea.  from 
having  been  a  noted  smuggler  of  that  article,  and  also  by 
that  of  Rogle-Bush,  the  place  of  his  residence,  assured  my 
kind  informant,  Mr.  Train,  that  he  had  frequently  seen 
upwards  of  two  hundred  Lingtow--men  assemble  at  one  time, 
and  go  off  into  the  interior  of  the  country,  fully  laden  with 
contraband  goods. 

In  those  halcyoii  days  of  the  free  trade,  the  fixed  price  for 
carrying  a  box  of  tea,  or  bale  of  tobacco,  from  the  coast  of 
Galloway  to  Edinburgh,  was  fifteen  shillings,  and  a  man  with 

19 


20  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

two  horses  carried  four  such  packages.  The  trade  was 
entirely  destroyed  by  Mr.  Pitt's  celebrated  commutation  law, 
which,  by  reducing  the  duties  upon  excisable  articles,  enabled 
the  lawful  dealer  to  compete  with  the  smuggler.  The  statute 
was  called  in  Galloway  and  Dumfriesshire,  by  those  who  had 
thriven  upon  the  contraband  trade,  'the  burning  and  starv- 
ing act.' 

Sure   of   such   active   assistance   on   shore,   Yawkins   de- 
meaned himself  so  boldly,  that  his  mere  name  was  a  terror 
to  the  officers  of  the  revenue.     He  availed  himself  of  the 
fears  which  his  presence  inspired  on  one  particular  night, 
when,  happening  to  be  ashore  with  a  considerable  quantity 
of  goods  in  his  sole  custody,  a  strong  party  of  excisemen 
came  down  on  him.     Far  from  shunning  the  attack,  Yaw- 
kins  sprung  forward,  shouting,  'Come  on,  my  lads !    Yawkins 
is  before  you.'     The  revenue  officers  were  intimidated,  and 
relinquished  their  prize,  though  defended  only  by  the  courage 
and  address  of  a  single  man.    On  his  proper  element,  Yaw- 
kins was  equally  successful.    On  one  occasion,  he  was  landing 
his  cargo  at  the  Manxman's  Lake,  near  Kirkcudbright,  when 
two  revenue  cutters   (the  Pigmy  and  the  Dwarf)   hove  in 
sight  at  once  on  different  tacks,  the  one  coming  round  by  the 
Isles  of  Fleet,  the  other  between  the  Point  of  Rueberry  and 
the  Muckle  Ron.  The  dauntless  free-trader  instantly  weighed 
anchor,  and  bore  down  right  between  the  luggers,  so  close 
that  he  tossed  his  hat  on  the  deck  of  the  one,  and  his  wig  on 
that  of  the  other,  hoisted  a  cask  to  his  maintop,  to  show  his 
occupation,  and  bore  away  under  an  extraordinary  pressure 
of  canvas,  without  receiving  injury.     To  account  for  these 
and  other  hair-breadth  escapes,  popular  superstition  alleged 
that  Yawkins  insured  his  celebrated  buckkar  by  compounding 
with  the  devil  for  one-tenth  of  his  crew  every  voyage.    How 
they  arranged  the  separation  of  the  stock  and  tithes,  is  left  to 
our  conjecture.    The  buckkar  was  perhaps  called  The  Black 
Prince  in  honour  of  the  formidable  insurer. 

The  Black  Prince  used  to  discharge  her  cargo  at  Luce,  Bal- 
carry,  and  elsewhere  on  the  coast ;  but  her  owner's  favourite 
landing-places  were  at  the  entrance  of  the  Dee  and  the  Cree, 
near  the  old  castle  of  Rueberry.  about  six  miles  below  Kirk- 
cudbright.   There  is  a  cave  of  large  dimensions  in  the  vicinity 


GUY    MANNERTXG  21 

of  Rueberry,  which,  from  its  being  frequently  used  by  Yaw- 
kins,  and  his  supposed  connexion  with  the  smugglers  on  the 
shore,  is  now  called  Dirk  Hatteraick's  cave.  Strangers  who 
visit  this  place,  the  scenery  of  which  is  highly  romantic,  are 
also  shown,  under  the  name  of  the  Ganger's  Loup,  a  tremen- 
dous precipice,  being  the  same,  it  is  asserted,  from  which 
Kennedy  was  precipitated. 

Meg  Merrilies  is  in  Galloway  considered  as  having  had  her 
origin  in  the  traditions  concerning  the  celebrated  Flora  Mar- 
shal, one  of  the  royal  consorts  of  Willie  Marshal,  more  com- 
monly called  the  Caird  of  BaruUion,  King  of  the  Gipsies  of 
the  Western  Lowlands.  That  potentate  was  himself  deserv- 
ing of  notice,  from  the  following  peculiarities.  He  was  born 
in  the  parish  of  Kirkmichael,  about  the  year  1671 ;  and  as  he 
died  at  Kirkcudbright,  November  23,  1792,  he  must  then 
have  been  in  the  one  hundred  and  twentieth  year  of  his  age. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  this  unusually  long  lease  of  existence 
was  noted  by  any  peculiar  excellence  of  conduct  or  habits  of 
life.  Willie  had  been  pressed  or  enlisted  seven  times,  and  had 
deserted  as  often ;  besides  three  times  running  away  from  the 
naval  service.  He  had  been  seventeen  times  lawfully  mar- 
ried ;  and  besides  such  a  reasonably  large  share  of  matri- 
monial comforts,  was,  after  his  hundredth  year,  the  avowed 
father  of  four  children,  by  less  legitimate  affections.  He 
subsisted,  in  his  extreme  old  age,  by  a  pension  from  the  pres- 
ent Earl  of  Selkirk's  grandfather.  Will  Marshal  is  buried  in 
Kirkcudbright  church,  where  his  monument  is  still  shown, 
decorated  with  a  scutcheon  suitably  blazoned  with  two  tups' 
horns  and  two  cutty  spoons. 

In  his  youth  he  occasionally  took  an  evening  walk  on  the 
highway,  with  the  purpose  of  assisting  travellers  by  relieving 
them  of  the  weight  of  their  purses.  On  one  occasion,  the 
Caird  of  Barullion  robbed  the  Laird  of  Bargally,  at  a  place 
between  Carsphairn  and  Dalmellington.  His  purpose  was 
not  achieved  without  a  severe  struggle,  in  which  the  gipsy 
lost  his  bonnet,  and  was  obliged  to  escape,  leaving  it  on  the 
road.  A  respectable  farmer  happened  to  be  the  next  pas- 
senger, and  seeing  the  bonnet,  alighted,  took  it  up.  and  rather 
imprudently  put  it  on  his  own  head.  At  this  instant,  Bargally 
came  up  with  some  assistants,  and  recognizing  the  bonnet, 


23  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

charged  the  farmer  of  Bantoberick  with  having  robbed  him, 
and  took  him  into  custody.  There  being  some  likeness  be- 
tween the  parties,  Bargally  persisted  in  his  charge,  and 
though  the  respectabiHty  of  the  farmer's  character  was 
proved  or  admitted,  his  trial  before  the  Circuit  Court  came 
on  accordingly.  The  fatal  bonnet  lay  on  the  table  of  the 
Court ;  Bargally  swore  that  it  was  the  identical  article  worn 
by  the  man  who  robbed  him;  and  he  and  others  likewise 
deponed  that  they  had  found  the  accused  on  the  spot  where 
the  crime  was  committed,  with  the  bonnet  on  his  head.  The 
case  looked  gloomily  for  the  prisoner,  and  the  opinion  of  the 
judge  seemed  unfavourable.  But  there  was  a  person  in 
Court  who  knew  well  both  who  did,  and  who  did  not,  com- 
mit the  crime.  This  was  the  Caird  of  Barullion,  who, 
thrusting  himself  up  to  the  bar.  near  the  place  where  Bar- 
gally was  standing,  suddenly  seized  on  the  bonnet,  put  it  on 
his  head,  and  looking  the  Laird  full  in  the  face,  asked  him, 
with  a  voice  which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Court  and 
crowded  audience, — 'Look  at  me,  sir,  and  tell  me,  by  the 
oath  you  have  sworn — Am  not  /  the  man  who  robbed  you 
between  Carsphairn  and  Dalmellington?'  Bargally  replied, 
in  great  astonishment,  'By  heaven !  you  are  the  very  man.' 
— 'You  see  what  sort  of  memory  this  gentleman  has,'  said 
the  volunteer  pleader:  'he  swears  to  the  bonnet,  whatever 
features  are  under  it.  If  you  yourself,  my  Lord,  will  put  it 
on  your  head,  he  will  be  willing  to  swear  that  your  Lordship 
was  the  party  who  robbed  him  between  Carsphairn  and 
Dalmellington.'  The  tenant  of  Bantoberick  was  unanimously 
acquitted,  and  thus  Willie  Marshal  ingeniously  contrived  to 
save  an  innocent  man  from  danger  without  incurring  any 
himself,  since  Bargally's  evidence  must  have  seemed  to  every 
one  too  fluctuating  to  be  relied  upon. 

While  the  King  of  the  Gipsies  was  thus  laudably  occupied, 
his  royal  consort,  Flora,  contrived,  it  is  said,  to  steal  the 
hood  from  the  Judge's  gown;  for  which  offence,  combined 
with  her  presumptive  guilt  as  a  gipsy,  she  was  banished  to 
New  England,  whence  she  never  returned. 

Now  I  cannot  grant  that  the  idea  of  Meg  Merrilies  was, 
in  the  first  concoction  of  the  character,  derived  from  Flora 
Marshal,  seeing  I  have  already  said  she  was  identified  with 


GUY    MANNERING  23 

Jean  Gordon,  and  as  I  have  not  the  Laird  of  Bargally's 
apology  for  charging  the  same  fact  on  two  several  indi- 
viduals. Yet  I  am  quite  content  that  Meg  should  be  con- 
sidered as  a  representative  of  her  sect  and  class  in  general 
— Flora,  as  well  as  others. 

The  other  instances  in  which  my  Gallovidian  readers  have 
obliged  me,  by  assigning  to 

airy  nothings 


A   local   habitation   and   a   name, 

shall  also  be  sanctioned  so  far  as  the  Author  may  be  entitled 
to  do  so.  I  think  the  facetious  Joe  Miller  records  a  case 
pretty  much  in  point ;  where  the  keeper  of  a  Museum,  while 
showing,  as  he  said,  the  very  sword  with  which  Balaam  was 
about  to  kill  his  ass,  was  interrupted  by  one  of  the  visitors, 
who  reminded  him  that  Balaam  was  not  possessed  of  a 
sword,  but  only  wished  for  one.  'True,  sir,'  replied  the  ready- 
witted  cicerone ;  'but  this  is  the  very  sword  he  wished  for.' 
The  author,  in  application  of  this  story,  has  only  to  add  that, 
though  ignorant  of  the  coincidence  between  the  fictions  of  the 
tale  and  some  real  circumstances,  he  is  contented  to  believe 
he  must  unconsciously  have  thought  or  dreamed  of  the  last, 
while  engaged  in  the  composition  of  Guy  Manncring. 


GUY  MANNERING 

OR 

THE  ASTROLOGER 

CHAPTER  I 

He  could  not  deny,  that  looking  round  upon  the  dreary  region,  and 
seeing  nothing  but  bleak  fields,  and  naked  trees,  hills  obscured  by  fogs, 
and  flats  covered  with  inundations,  he  did  for  some  time  suffer 
melancholy  to  prevail  upon  him,  and  wished  himself  again  safe  at 
home. — 'Travels  of  Will.  Marvel,'  Idler,  No.  49. 

IT  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  month  of  November  17 — , 
when  a  young  EngUsh  gentleman,  who  had  just  left  the 
university  of  Oxford,  made  use  of  the  liberty  afforded 
him  to  visit  some  parts  of  the  north  of  England;  and  curi- 
osity extended  his  tour  into  the  adjacent  frontier  of  the 
sister  country.  He  had  visited,  on  the  day  that  opens  our 
history,  some  monastic  ruins  in  the  county  of  Dumfries, 
and  spent  much  of  the  day  in  making  drawings  of  them 
from  different  points;  so  that,  on  mounting  his  horse  to 
resume  his  journey,  the  brief  and  gloomy  twilight  of  the 
season  had  already  commenced.  His  way  lay  through  a 
wide  tract  of  black  moss,  extending  for  miles  on  each  side 
and  before  him.  Little  eminences  arose  like  islands  on  its 
surface,  bearing  here  and  there  patches  of  corn  which  even 
at  this  season  was  green,  and  sometimes  a  hut  or  farm- 
house, shaded  by  a  willow  or  two,  and  surrounded  by  large 
elder-bushes.  These  insulated  dwellings  communicated  with 
each  other  by  winding  passages  through  the  moss,  impass- 
able by  any  but  the  natives  themselves.  The  public  road, 
however,  was  tolerably  well  made  and  safe,  so  that  the 
prospect  of  being  benighted  brought  with  it  no  real  danger. 
Still  it  is  uncomfortable  to  travel  alone  and  in  the  dark 
through  an  unknown  country;  and  there  are  few  ordinary 

25 


36  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

occasions  upon  which  Fancy  frets  herself  so  much  as  in  a 
situation  like  that  of  Mannering. 

As  the  light  grew  faint  and  more  faint,  and  the  morass 
appeared  blacker  and  blacker,  our  traveller  questioned  more 
closely  each  chance  passenger  on  his  distance  from  the 
village  of  Kippletringan,  where  he  proposed  to  quarter  for 
the  night.  His  queries  were  usually  answered  by  a  counter- 
challenge  respecting  the  place  from  whence  he  came.  While 
sufficient  daylight  remained  to  show  the  dress  and  appearance 
of  a  gentleman,  these  cross  interrogatories  were  usually  put 
in  the  form  of  a  case  supposed. — as.  'Ye'll  hae  been  at  the 
auld  abbey  o'  Halycross,  sir?  there's  mony  English  gentle- 
men gang  to  see  that ;' — or,  'Your  honour  will  be  come  f rae 
the  house  o'  Pouderloupat?'  But  when  the  voice  of  the 
querist  alone  was  distinguishable,  the  response  usually  was, 
'\Mnere  are  ye  coming  frae  at  sic  a  time  o'  night  as  the  like 
o'  this?' — or,  'Ye'll  no  be  o'  this  country,  freend?'  The 
answers,  when  obtained,  were  neither  very  reconcilable  to 
each  other,  nor  accurate  in  the  information  which  they  af- 
forded. Kippletringan  was  distant  at  first  'a  gey  bit;'  then 
the  'gey  bit'  was  more  accurately  described,  as  'ablins  three 
mile;'  then  the  'three  mile'  diminished  into  'like  a  mile  and  a 
bittock;'  then  extended  themselves  into  'four  mile  or  therc- 
awa;'  and,  lastly,  a  female  voice,  having  hushed  a  wailing 
infant  which  the  spokeswoman  carried  in  her  arms,  assured 
Guy  Mannering,  'It  was  a  weary  lang  gate  yet  to  Kipple- 
tringan, and  unco  heavy  road  for  foot  passengers.'  The 
poor  hack  upon  which  Mannering  was  moimted,  was  prob- 
ably of  opinion  that  it  suited  him  as  ill  as  the  female  re- 
spondent; for  he  began  to  flag  very  much,  answered  each 
application  of  the  spur  with  a  groan,  and  stumbled  at  every 
stone   (and  they  were  not   few)   which  lay  in  his  road. 

Mannering  now  grew  impatient.  He  was  occasionally 
betrayed  into  a  deceitful  hope  that  the  end  of  his  journey 
was  near  by  the  apparition  of  a  twinkling  light  or  two ;  but, 
as  he  came  up.  he  was  disappointed  to  find  that  the  gleams 
proceeded  from  some  of  those  farm-houses  which  occasion- 
ally ornamented  the  surface  of  the  extensive  bog.  At  length, 
to  complete  his  perplexity,  he  arrived  at  a  place  where  the 
road  divided  into  two.     H  there  had  been  light  to  consult 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  27 

the  relics  of  a  finger-post  which  stood  there,  it  would  have 
been  of  little  avail,  as,  according  to  the  good  custom  of 
North  Britain,  the  inscription  had  been  defaced  shortly 
after  its  erection.  Our  adventurer  was  therefore  compelled, 
like  a  knight-errant  of  old,  to  trust  to  the  sagacity  of  his 
horse,  which,  without  any  demur,  chose  the  left-hand  path, 
and  seemed  to  proceed  at  a  somewhat  livelier  pace  than  be- 
fore, affording  thereby  a  hope  that  he  knew  he  was  drawing 
near  to  his  quarters  for  the  evening.  This  hope,  however, 
was  not  speedily  accomplished ;  and  Mannering.  whose  im- 
patience made  every  furlong  seem  three,  began  to  think  that 
Kippletringan  was  actually  retreating  before  him  in  pro- 
portion to  his  advance. 

It  was  now  very  cloudy,  although  the  stars,  from  time  to 
time,  shed  a  twinkling  and  uncertain  light.  Hitherto  noth- 
ing had  broken  the  silence  around  him,  but  the  deep  cry 
of  the  bog-blitter,  or  bull-of-the-bog,  a  large  species  of 
bittern;  and  the  sighs  of  the  wind  as  it  passed  along  the 
dreary  morass.  To  these  was  now  joined  the  distant  roar 
of  the  ocean,  towards  which  the  traveller  seemed  to  be  fast 
approaching.  This  was  no  circumstance  to  make  his  mind 
easy.  ]\Iany  of  the  roads  in  that  country  lay  along  the  sea- 
beach,  and  some  were  liable  to  be  flooded  by  the  tides,  which 
rise  to  a  great  height  and  advance  with  extreme  rapidity. 
Others  were  intersected  with  creeks  and  small  inlets,  which 
it  was  only  safe  to  pass  at  particular  times  of  the  tide. 
Neither  circumstance  would  have  suited  a  dark  night,  a 
fatigued  horse,  and  a  traveller  ignorant  of  his  road.  IMan- 
nering  resolved,  therefore,  definitely  to  halt  for  the  night  at 
the  first  inhabited  place,  however  poor,  he  might  chance  to 
reach,  unless  he  could  procure  a  guide  to  this  unlucky 
\'illage  of  Kippletringan. 

A  miserable  hut  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  execute  his 
purpose.  He  found  out  the  door  with  no  small  difficulty. 
and  for  some  time  knocked  without  producing  any  other 
answer  than  a  duet  between  a  female  and  a  cur-dog,  the 
latter  yelping  as  if  he  would  have  barked  his  heart  out.  the 
other  screaming  in  chorus.  By  degrees  the  human  tones 
predominated;  but  the  angry  bark  of  the  cur  being  at  the 
instant  changed  into  a  howl,  it  is  probable  something  more 


38  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

than  fair  strength  of  kings  had  contributed  to  the  as- 
cendency. 

'Sorrow  be  in  your  thrapple  then !' — these  were  the  first 
articulate  words. — 'will  ye  no  let  me  hear  what  the  man 
wants,  wi'  your  yaffing?' 

'Am  I  far  from  Kippletringan,  good  dame?' 

'Frae  Kippletringan ! ! !'  in  an  exalted  tone  of  wonder, 
which  we  can  but  faintly  express  by  three  points  of  ad- 
miration ;  'Ow,  man  !  ye  should  hae  hadden  eassel  to  Kip- 
pletringan— ye  maun  gae  back  as  far  as  the  Whaap,  and 
hand  the  Whaap^  till  ye  come  to  Ballenloan,  and  then ' 

'This  will  never  do,  good  dame  !  my  horse  is  almost  quite 
knocked  up — can  you  not  give  me  a  night's  lodgings?' 

'Troth  can  I  no ;  I  am  a  lone  w^oman,  for  James  he's  awa 
to  Drumshourloch  fair  with  the  year-aulds,  and  I  daurna 
for  my  life  open  the  door  to  ony  o'  your  gang-there-out 
sort   o'   bodies.' 

'But  what  must  I  do  then,  good  dame?  for  I  can't  sleep 
here  upon  the  road  all  night.' 

'Troth,  I  kenna,  imless  ye  like  to  gae  down  and  speer  for 
quarters  at  the  Place.  I'se  warrant  they'll  tak  ye  in,  whether 
ye  be  gentle  or  semple.' 

'Simple  enough  to  be  wandering  here  at  such  a  time  of 
night.'  thought  Mannering.  who  was  ignorant  of  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Dhrase.  'But  how  shall  I  get  to  the  place,  as  you 
call  it?' 

'Ye  maun  baud  wcssel  by  the  end  o'  the  loan,  and  take 
tent  o'  the  jaw-hole.' 

'Oh,  if  ye  get  to  eassel  and  wesscl'  again,  I  am  undone! — 
Is  there  nobody  that  could  guide  me  to  this  place?  I  will 
pay  him  handsomely.' 

The  word  pay  operated  like  magic.  'Jock,  ye  villain,'  ex- 
claimed the  voice  from  the  interior,  'are  ye  lying  routing 
there,  and  a  young  gentleman  seeking  the  way  to  the  Place  ? 
Get  up,  ye  fause  loon,  and  show  him  the  way  down  the 
muckle  loaning. — He'll  show  you  the  way,  sir,  and  I'se 
warrant   ye'U  be   weel   put   up ;    for   they   never   turn   awa 

*  The  Hope,  often  pronounced  Whaap,  is  the  sheltered  part  or  hollow  of 
the  hill.  Hoff,  howff,  haaf,  and  haven,  are  all  modifications  of  the  same 
word. 

^  Provincial   for  eastward  and  westward. 


GUY    MAXNERING  39 

naebody  f rae  the  door ;  and  ye'll  be  come  in  the  canny 
moment,  I'm  thinking,  for  the  laird's  servant — that's  no  to 
say  his  body-servant,  but  the  helper  like — rade  express  by 
this  e'en  to  fetch  the  houdie,  and  he  just  stayed  the  drinking 
o'  twa  pints  o'  tippeny  ,to  tell  us  how  my  leddy  was  ta'en 
wi'  her  pains.' 

'Perhaps,'  said  Mannering.  'at  such  a  time  a  stranger's 
arrival  might  be  inconvenient?' 

'Hout,  na,  ye  needna  be  blate  about  that;  their  house  is 
muckle  eneugh.  and  decking^  time's  aye  canty  time.' 

By  this  time  Jock  had  found  his  way  into  all  the  intrica- 
cies of  a  tattered  doublet,  and  more  tattered  pair  of  breeches, 
and  sallied  forth,  a  great  white-headed,  bare-legged,  lubberly 
boy  of  twelve  years  old,  so  exhibited  by  the  glimpse  of  a 
rushlight,  which  his  half-naked  mother  held  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  get  a  peep  at  the  stranger,  without  greatly  ex- 
posing herself  to  view  in  return.  Jock  moved  on  westward, 
by  the  end  of  the  house,  leading  Mannering's  horse  by  the 
bridle,  and  piloting,  with  some  dexterity,  along  the  little 
path  which  bordered  the  formidable  jaw-hole,  whose  vicin- 
ity the  stranger  was  made  sensible  of  by  means  of  more 
organs  than  one.  His  guide  then  dragged  the  weary  hack 
along  a  broken  and  stony  cart-track,  next  over  a  ploughed 
field,  then  broke  down  a  slap,  as  he  called  it,  in  a  dry-stone 
fence,  and  lugged  the  unresisting  animal  through  the  breach, 
about  a  rood  of  the  simple  masonry  giving  way  in  the  splut- 
ter with  which  he  passed.  Finally,  he  led  the  way,  through 
a  wicket,  into  something  which  had  still  the  air  of  an 
avenue,  though  many  of  the  trees  were  felled.  The  roar  of 
the  ocean  was  now  near  and  full,  and  the  moon,  which  be- 
gan to  make  her  appearance,  gleamed  on  a  turreted,  and  ap- 
parently a  ruined  mansion,  of  considerable  extent.  Man- 
nering fixed  his  eyes  upon  it  with  a  disconsolate  sensation. 

'Why,  my  little  fellow,'  he  said,  'this  is  a  ruin,  not  a 
house  ?' 

'Ah,  but  the  lairds  lived  there  langsyne — that's  Ellen- 
gowan  Auld  Place ;  there's  a  hantle  bogles  about  it — but 
ye  needna  be  feared — I  never  saw  ony  mysell,  and  we're  just 
at  the  door  o'  the  New  Place.' 

1  Hatching-time. 


30  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Accordingly,  leaving  the  ruins  on  the  right,  a  few  steps 
brought  the  traveller  in  front  of  a  modern  house  of  moder- 
ate size,  at  which  his  guide  rapped  with  great  importance. 
Mannering  told  his  circumstances  to  the  servant;  and  the 
gentleman  of  the  house,  who  heard  his  tale  from  the  par- 
lour, stepped  forward  and  welcomed  the  stranger  hospita- 
bly to  Ellangowan,  The  boy,  made  happy  with  half  a  crown, 
was  dismissed  to  his  cottage,  the  weary  horse  was  con- 
ducted to  a  stall,  and  Mannering  found  himself  in  a  few 
minutes  seated  by  a  comfortable  supper,  for  which  his  cold 
ride  gave  him  a  hearty  appetite. 


CHAPTER  11 

Comes  me   cranking  in, 


And  cuts  me  from  the  best  of  all  my  land, 
A  huge  half-moon,  a  monstrous  cantle  out. 

Henry  the  Fourth,  Part  I. 

THE  company  in  the  parlour  of  Ellangowan  consisted 
of  the  Laird,  and  a  sort  of  person  who  might  be 
the  village  schoolmaster,  or  perhaps  the  minister's 
assistant ;  his  appearance  was  too  shabby  to  indicate  the 
minister,  considering  he  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Laird. 

The  Laird  himself  was  one  of  those  second-rate  sort  of 
persons,  that  are  to  be  found  frequently  in  rural  situ- 
ations. Fielding  has  described  one  class  as  feras  consitmcrc 
vati;  but  the  love  of  field-sports  indicates  a  certain  activity 
of  mind,  which  had  forsaken  Mr.  Bertram,  if  ever  he  pos- 
sessed it.  A  good-humoured  listlessness  of  countenance 
formed  the  only  remarkable  expression  of  his  features,  al- 
though they  were  rather  handsome  than  otherwise.  In  fact 
his  physiognomy  indicated  the  inanity  of  character  which 
pervaded  his  life.  I  will  give  the  reader  some  insight  into 
his  state  and  conversation,  before  he  has  finished  a  long 
lecture  to  Mannering  upon  the  propriety  and  comfort  of 
wrapping  his  stirrup-irons  round  with  a  wisp  of  straw  when 
he  had  occasion  to  ride  in  a  chill  evening. 

Godfrey  Bertram,  of  Ellangowan,  succeeded  to  a  long 
pedigree  and  a  short  rent-roll,  like  many  lairds  of  that 
period.  His  last  of  forefathers  ascended  so  high,  that  they 
were  lost  in  the  barbarous  ages  of  Galwegian  independence ; 
so  that  his  genealogical  tree,  besides  the  Christian  and 
crusading  names  of  Godfreys,  and  Gilberts,  and  Dennises, 
and  Rolands  without  end,  bore  heathen  fruit  of  yet  darker 
ages, — Arths,  and  Knarths,  and  Donagilds,  and  Hanlons, 
In  truth,  they  had  been  formerly  the  stormy  chiefs  of  a 
desert  but  extensive  domain,  and  the  heads  of  a  numerous 
tribe  called  Mac-Dingawaie,  though  they  afterwards  adopted 
the   Norman  surname  of   Bertram.     They  had   made   war-. 

31 


32  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

raised  rebellions,  been  defeated,  beheaded,  and  hanged,  as 
became  a  family  of  importance,  for  many  centuries.  But 
they  had  gradually  lost  ground  in  the  world,  and,  from 
being  themselves  the  heads  of  treason  and  traitorous  con- 
spiracies, the  Bertrams,  or  Mac-Dingawaies.  of  Ellangowan, 
had  sunk  into  subordinate  accomplices.  Their  most  fatal 
exhibitions  in  this  capacity  took  place  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  when  the  foul  fiend  possessed  them  with  a  spirit 
of  contradiction,  which  uniformly  involved  them  in  con- 
troversy with  the  ruling  powers.  They  reversed  the  con- 
duct of  the  celebrated  Vicar  of  Bray,  and  adhered  as  tena- 
ciously to  the  weaker  side,  as  that  worthy  divine  to  the 
stronger.     And  truly,  like  him,  they  had  their  reward. 

Allan   Bertram   of   Ellangowan,    who   flourished   tempore 
Caroli  Primt,  was,  says  my  authority.   Sir  Robert  Douglas 
in  his  Scottish  Baronage  (see  the  title  Ellangowan),  'a  steady 
loyalist,  and  full  of  zeal  for  the  cause  of  his  Sacred  Majesty, 
in  which  he  united  with   the  great   Marquis  of  Montrose 
and  other  truly  zealous  and  honourable  patriots,  and  sus- 
tained great  losses  in  that  behalf.     He  had  the  honour  of 
knighthood  conferred  upon  him  by  his  Most  Sacred  Majesty, 
and  was  sequestrated  as  a  malignant  by  the  parliament  1642, 
and  afterwards  as  a  resolutioner  in  the  year  1648.' — These 
two   cross-grained   epithets   of   malignant   and   resolutioner 
cost  poor  Sir  Allan  one  half  of  the  family  estate.     His  son 
Dennis  Bertram  married  a  daughter  of  an  eminent  fanatic, 
who  had  a  seat  in  the  council  of  state,  and  saved  by  that 
union  the  remainder  of  the   family   property.     But,   as  ill 
chance  would  have  it,  he  became  enamoured  of  the  lady's 
principles  as  well  as  of  her  charms,  and  my  author  gives 
him  this  character :     'He  was  a  man  of  eminent  parts  and 
resolution,  for  which  reason  he  was  chosen  by  the  western 
counties  one  of  the  committee  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen, 
to  report  their  griefs  to  the  privy   council  of   Charles   H 
anent  the  coming  in  of  the  Highland  host  in   1678.'     For 
undertaking  this  patriotic  task  he  underwent  a  fine,  to  pay 
which  he  was  obliged  to  mortgage  half  of  the  remaining 
moiety  of  his  paternal  property.     This  loss  he  might  have 
recovered  by  dint  of  severe  economy,  but  on  the  breaking 
out  of  Argyle's  rebellionj   Dennis  Bertram  was  again  sus- 


GUY    MANNERING  38 

pected  by  Government,  apprehended,  sent  to  Dunnotar 
Castle  on  the  coast  of  of  the  Mearns,  and  there  broke 
his  neck  in  an  attempt  to  escape  from  a  subterranean 
habitation  called  the  Whigs'  Vault,  in  which  he  was  confined 
with  some  eighty  of  the  same  persuasion.  The  apprizer, 
therefore  (as  the  holder  of  a  mortgage  was  then  called), 
entered  upon  possession,  and,  in  the  language  of  Hotspur, 
'came  me  cranking  in,'  and  cut  the  family  out  of  another 
monstrous  cantle  of  their  remaining  property. 

Donohoe  Bertram,  with  somewhat  of  an  Irish  name,  and 
somewhat  of  an  Irish  temper,  succeeded  to  the  diminished 
property  of  Ellangowan.  He  turned  out  of  doors  the  Rev. 
Aaron  Macbriar,  his  mother's  chaplain  (it  is  said  they  quar- 
relled about  the  good  graces  of  a  milkmaid),  drank  }^imself 
daily  drunk  with  brimming  healths  to  the  king,  council,  and 
bishops:  held  orgies  with  the  Laird  of  Lagg,  Theophilus 
Oglethorpe,  and  Sir  James  Turner;  and  lastly,  took  his  grey 
gelding  and  joined  Clavers  at  Killiecrankie.  At  the  skirmish 
of  Dunkeld,  1689,  he  was  shot  dead  by  a  Cameronian  with  a 
silver  button  (being  supposed  to  have  proof  from  the  Evil 
One  against  lead  and  steel),  and  his  grave  is  still  called,  the 
'Wicked  Laird's  Lair.' 

His  son  Lewis  had  more  prudence  than  seems  usually  to 
have  belonged  to  the  family.  He  nursed  what  property  was 
yet  left  to  him ;  for  Donohoe's  excesses,  as  well  as  fines  and 
forfeitures,  had  made  another  inroad  upon  the  estate.  And 
although  even  he  did  not  escape  the  fatality  which  induced 
the  Lairds  of  Ellangowan  to  interfere  with  politics,  he  had 
yet  the  prudence,  ere  he  went  out  with  Lord  Kenmore  in 
171 5,  to  convey  his  estate  to  trustees,  in  order  to  parry  pains 
and  penalties,  in  case  the  Earl  of  Mar  could  not  put  down 
the  Protestant  succession.  But  Scylla  and  Charybdis — a 
word  to  the  wise — he  only  saved  his  estate  at  the  expense  of 
a  lawsuit,  which  again  subdivided  the  family  property.  He 
was,  however,  a  man  of  resolution.  He  sold  part  of  the 
lands,  evacuated  the  old  castle,  where  the  family  lived  in  their 
decadence,  as  a  mouse  (said  an  old  farmer)  lives  under  a 
firlot.  Pulling  down  part  of  these  venerable  ruins,  he  built 
with  the  stones  a  narrow  house  of  three  stories  high,  with  a 
front  like  a  grenadier's  cap,  having  in  the  very  centre  a 


34  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

round  window,  like  the  single  eye  of  a  Cyclops,  two  windows 
on  each  side,  and  a  door  in  the  middle,  leading  to  a  parlour 
and  withdrawing  room,  full  of  all  manner  of  cross  lights. 

This  was  the  New  Place  of  Ellangowan,  in  which  we  left 
our  hero,  better  amused  perhaps  than  our  readers,  and  to 
this  Lewis  Bertram  retreated,  full  of  projects  for  re-estab- 
lishing the  prosperity  of  his  family.  He  took  some  land  into 
his  own  hand,  rented  some  from  neighbouring  proprietors, 
bought  and  sold  Highland  cattle  and  Cheviot  sheep,  rode  to 
fairs  and  trysts,  fought  hard  bargains,  and  held  necessity 
at  the  staff's  end  as  well  as  he  might.  But  what  he  gained 
in  purse  he  lost  in  honour,  for  such  agricultural  and  com- 
mercial negotiations  were  very  ill  looked  upon  by  his  brother 
lairds,  who  minded  nothing  but  cock-fighting,  hunting,  cours- 
ing, and  horse-racing,  with  now  and  then  the  alternation  of 
a  desperate  duel.  The  occupations  which  he  followed  en- 
croached, in  their  opinion,  upon  the  article  of  Ellangowan's 
gentry ;  and  he  found  it  necessary  gradually  to  estrange  him- 
self from  their  society,  and  sink  into  what  was  then  a  very 
ambiguous  character,  a  gentleman  farmer.  In  the  midst  of 
his  schemes,  death  claimed  his  tribute  ;  and  the  scanty  remains 
of  a  large  property  descended  upon  Godfrey  Bertram,  the 
present  possessor,  his  only  son. 

The  danger  of  the  father's  speculations  was  soon  seen. 
Deprived  of  Laird  Lewis's  personal  and  active  superin- 
tendence, all  his  undertakings  miscarried,  and  became  either 
abortive  or  perilous.  Without  a  single  spark  of  energy  to 
meet  or  repel  these  misfortunes,  Godfrey  put  his  faith  in  the 
activity  of  another.  He  kept  neither  hunters,  nor  hounds, 
nor  any  other  southern  preliminaries  to  ruin ;  but,  as  has  been 
observed  of  his  countrymen,  he  kept  a  7nan  of  business,  who 
answered  the  purpose  equally  well  Under  this  gentleman's 
supervision  small  debts  grew  into  large,  interests  were  ac- 
cumulated upon  capitals,  movable  bonds  became  heritable, 
and  law  charges  were  heaped  upon  all ;  though  Ellangowan 
possessed  so  little  the  spirit  of  a  litigant,  that  he  was  on  two 
occasions  charged  to  make  payment  of  the  expenses  of  a  long 
lawsuit,  although  he  had  never  before  heard  that  he  had  such 
cases  in  court.  Meanwhile  his  neighbours  predicted  his  final 
ruin.     Those  of  the  higher  rank,  with  some  malignity,  ac- 


GUY    MAXNERING  35 

counted  him  already  a  degraded  brother.  The  lower  classes, 
seeing  nothing  enviable  in  his  situation,  marked  his  embar- 
rassments with  more  compassion.  He  was  even  a  kind  of 
favourite  with  them,  and  upon  the  division  of  a  common,  or 
the  holding  of  a  black-fishing  or  poaching-court.  or  any  simi- 
ilar  occasion  when  they  conceived  themselves  oppressed  by 
the  gentry,  they  were  in  the  habit  of  saying  to  each  other, 
*Ah,  if  Ellangowan,  honest  man,  had  his  ain  that  his  for- 
bears had  afore  him,  he  wadna  see  the  puir  folk  trodden  down 
this  gait.'  Meanwhile,  this  general  good  opinion  never  pre- 
vented their  taking  advantage  of  him  on  all  possible  occa- 
sions— turning  their  cattle  into  his  parks,  stealing  his  wood, 
shooting  his  game,  and  so  forth,  'for  the  Laird,  honest  man, 
he'll  never  find  it, — he  never  minds  what  a  puir  body  does.' 
— Pedlars,  gipsies,  tinkers,  vagrants  of  all  descriptions, 
roosted  about  his  out-houses,  or  harboured  in  his  kitchen ; 
and  the  Laird,  who  was  'nae  nice  body,'  but  a  thorough  gos- 
sip, like  most  weak  men.  found  recompense  for  his  hospitality 
in  the  pleasure  of  questioning  them  on  the  news  of  the  coun- 
try side. 

A  circumstance  arrested  Ellangowan's  progress  on  the 
high  road  to  ruin.  This  was  his  marriage  with  a  lady  who 
had  a  portion  of  about  four  thousand  pounds.  Nobody  in 
the  neighbourhood  could  conceive  why  she  married  him  and 
endowed  him  with  her  wealth,  unless  because  he  had  a  tall, 
handsome  figure,  a  good  set  of  features,  a  genteel  address, 
and  a  most  perfect  good  humour.  It  might  be  some  additional 
consideration,  that  she  was  herself  at  the  reflecting  age  of 
twenty-eight,  and  had  no  near  relations  to  control  her  actions 
or  choice. 

It  was  in  this  lady's  behalf  (confined  for  the  first  time  after 
her  marriage)  that  the  speedy  and  active  express,  mentioned 
by  the  old  dame  of  the  cottage,  had  been  dispatched  to 
Kippletringan  on  the  night  of  Mannering's  arrival. 

Though  we  have  said  so  much  of  the  Laird  himself,  it  still 
remains  that  we  make  the  reader  in  some  degree  acquainted 
with  his  companion.  This  was  Abel  Sampson,  commonly 
called,  from  his  occupation  as  a  pedagogue.  Dominie  Samp- 
son. He  was  of  low  birth,  but  having  evinced,  even  from 
his  cradle,  an  uncommon  seriousness  of  disposition,  the  poor 


36  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

parents  were  encouraged  to  hope  that  their  bairn,  as  they  ex- 
pressed it,  'might  wag  his  pow  in  a  pulpit  yet.'  With  an 
ambitious  view  to  such  a  consummation,  they  pinched  and 
pared,  rose  early  and  lay  down  late,  ate  dry  bread  and  drank 
cold  water,  to  secure  to  Abel  the  means  of  learning.  Mean- 
time, his  tall  ungainly  figure,  his  taciturn  and  grave  manners, 
and  some  grotesque  habits  of  swinging  his  limbs,  and  screw- 
ing his  visage  while  reciting  his  task,  made  poor  Sampson 
the  ridicule  of  all  his  school-companions.  The  same  qualities 
secured  him  at  Glasgow  college  a  plentiful  share  of  the  same 
sort  of  notice.  Half  the  youthful  mob  of  'the  yards'  used  to 
assemble  regularly  to  see  Dominie  Sampson  (for  he  had 
already  attained  that  honourable  title)  descend  the  stairs 
from  the  Greek  class,  with  his  Lexicon  under  his  arm,  his 
long  misshapen  legs  sprawling  abroad,  and  keeping  awkward 
time  to  the  play  of  his  immense  shoulder-blades  as  they 
raised  and  depressed  the  loose  and  threadbare  black  coat 
which  was  his  constant  and  only  wear.  When  he  spoke,  the 
efforts  of  the  professor  (professor  of  divinity  though  he  was) 
were  totally  inadequate  to  restrain  the  inextinguishable 
laughter  of  the  students,  and  sometimes  even  to  repress  his 
own.  The  long,  sallow  visage,  the  goggle  eyes,  the  huge 
under- jaw,  which  appeared  not  to  open  and  shut  by  an  act 
of  volition,  but  to  be  dropped  and  hoisted  up  again  by  some 
complicated  machinery  within  the  inner  man, — the  harsh  and 
dissonant  voice,  and  the  screech-owl  notes  to  which  it  was 
exalted  when  he  was  exhorted  to  pronounce  more  distinctly, 
— all  added  fresh  subject  for  mirth  to  the  torn  cloak  and 
shattered  shoe,  which  have  afforded  legitimate  subjects  of 
raillery  against  the  poor  scholar  from  Juvenal's  time  down- 
ward. It  was  never  known  that  Sampson  either  exhibited 
irritability  at  this  ill  usage,  or  made  the  least  attempt  to 
retort  upon  his  tormentors.  He  slunk  from  college  by  the 
most  secret  paths  he  could  discover,  and  plunged  himself 
into  his  miserable  lodging,  where,  for  eighteen  pence  a  week, 
he  was  allowed  the  benefit  of  a  straw  mattress,  and,  if  his 
landlady  was  in  good  humour,  permission  to  study  his  task 
by  her  fire.  Under  all  these  disadvantages,  he  obtained  a 
competent  knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  some  acquaint- 
ance with  the  sciences. 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  37 

In  progress  of  time,  Abel  Sampson,  probationer  of  divinity, 
was  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  a  preacher.  But,  alas  !  partly 
from  his  own  bashfulness.  partly  owing  to  a  strong  and  ob- 
vious disposition  to  risibility  which  pervaded  the  congrega- 
tion upon  his  first  attempt,  he  became  totally  incapable  of 
proceeding  in  his  intended  discourse — gasped,  griimed,  hide- 
ously rolled  his  eyes  till  the  congregation  thought  them  flying 
out  of  his  head — shut  the  Bible — stumbled  down  the  pulpit- 
stairs,  trampling  upon  the  old  women  who  generally  take 
their  station  there, — and  was  ever  after  designated  as  a 
'stickit  minister.'  And  thus  he  wandered  back  to  his  own 
country,  with  blighted  hopes  and  prospects,  to  share  the  pov- 
erty of  his  parents.  As  he  had  neither  friend  nor  confidant, 
hardly  even  an  acquaintance,  no  one  had  the  means  of  observ- 
ing closely  how  Dominie  Sampson  bore  a  disappointment 
which  supplied  the  whole  town  with  a  week's  sport.  It  would 
be  endless  even  to  mention  the  numerous  jokes  to  which  it 
gave  birth, — from  a  ballad,  called  'Sampson's  Riddle,'  written 
upon  the  subject  by  a  smart  young  student  of  humanit}' — to 
the  sly  hope  of  the  Principal  that  the  fugitive  had  not,  in 
imitation  of  his  mighty  namesake,  taken  the  college  gates 
along  with  him  in  his  retreat. 

To  all  appearance,  the  equanimity  of  Sampson  was  un- 
shaken. He  sought  to  assist  his  parents  by  teaching  a  school, 
and  soon  had  plenty  of  scholars,  but  very  few  fees.  In  fact, 
he  taught  the  sons  of  farmers  for  what  they  chose  to  give 
him,  and  the  poor  for  nothing;  and,  to  the  shame  of  the 
former  be  it  spoken,  the  pedagogue's  gains  never  equalled 
those  of  a  skilful  ploughman.  He  wrote,  however,  a  good 
hand,  and  added  something  to  his  pittance  by  copying  ac- 
counts and  writing  letters  for  Ellangowan.  By  degrees,  the 
Laird,  who  was  much  estranged  from  general  society,  became 
partial  to  that  of  Dominie  Sampson.  Conversation,  it  is  true, 
was  out  of  the  question,  but  the  Dominie  was  a  good  listener, 
and  stirred  the  fire  with  some  address.  He  attempted  even 
to  snuff  the  candles,  but  was  unsuccessful,  and  relinquished 
that  ambitious  post  of  courtesy  after  having  twice  reduced 
the  parlour  to  total  darkness.  So  his  civilities,  thereafter, 
were  confined  to  taking  off  his  glass  of  ale  in  exactly  the 
same  time  and  measure  with  the  Laird,  and  in  uttering  cer- 


38  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

tain  indistinct  murmurs  of  acquiescence  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  long  and  winding  stories  of  Ellangowan. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  he  presented  for  the  first  time 
to  Mannering  his  tall,  gaunt,  awkward,  bony  figure,  attired 
in  a  threadbare  suit  of  black,  with  a  coloured  handkerchief, 
not  over  clean,  about  his  sinewy,  scraggy  neck,  and  his  nether 
person  arrayed  in  grey  breeches,  dark-blue  stockings,  clouted 
shoes,  and  small  copper  buckles. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  those 
two  persons,  in  whose  society  Mannering  now  found  himself 
comfortably  seated. 


CHAPTER  Til 

Do  not  the  hist'ries  of  all  ages 

Relate   miraculous  presages. 

Of  strange  turns  in  the  world's  affairs. 

Foreseen  by  Astrologers,   Sooth-sayers, 

Chaldeans,  learned  Genethliacs, 

And  some  that  have  writ  almanacks  ? 

Httdibras. 

THE  circumstances  of  the  landlady  were  pleaded  to 
Mannering — first  as  an  apology  for  her  not  appearing 
to  welcome  her  guest,  and  for  those  deficiencies  in  his 
entertainment  which  her  attention  might  have  supplied,  and 
then  as  an  excuse  for  pressing  an  extra  bottle  of  good  wine. 
*I  cannot  weel  sleep,'  said  the  Laird  with  the  anxious 
feelings  of  a  father  in  such  a  predicament,  "till  I  hear  she's 
gotten  ower  with  it — and  if  you,  sir,  are  not  very  sleepy,  and 
would  do  me  and  the  Dominie  the  honour  to  sit  up  wi'  us, 
I  am  sure  we  shall  not  detain  you  very  late.  Luckie  Howat- 
son  is  very  expeditious ; — there  was  ance  a  lass  that  was  in 
that  way — she  did  not  live  far  from  hereabouts — ye  needna 
shake  your  head  and  groan.  Dominie — I  am  sure  the  kirk 
dues  were  a'  weel  paid,  and  what  can  man  do  mair  ? — it  was 
laid  till  her  ere  she  had  a  sark  ower  her  head;  and  the  man 
that  she  since  wadded  does  not  think  her  a  pin  the  waur  for 
the  misfortune. — They  live,  Mr.  Mannering,  by  the  shore- 
side,  at  Annan,  and  a  mair  decent,  orderly  couple,  with  six  as 
fine  bairns  as  ye  would  wish  to  see  plash  in  a  salt-water 

dub;  and  little  curlie  Godfrey that's  the  eldest,  the  come 

o'  will,  as  I  may  say — he's  on  board  an  excise  yacht ;  I  have  a 
cousin  at  the  board  of  excise — that's  Commissioner  Bertram ; 
he  got  his  commissionership  in  the  great  contest  for  the 
county,  that  ye  must  have  heard  of,  for  it  was  appealed  to  the 
House  of  Commons :  now  I  should  have  voted  there  for  the 
Laird  of  Balruddery;  but  ye  see  my  father  was  a  Jacobite. 
and  out  with  Kenmore,  so  he  never  took  the  oaths;  and  I 

39 


40  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ken  not  weel  how  it  was,  but  all  that  I  could  do  and  say,  they 
keepit  me  off  the  roll,  though  my  agent,  that  had  a  vote  upon 
my  estate,  ranked  as  a  good  vote  for  auld  Sir  Thomas  Kittle- 
court.    But  to  return  to  what  I  was  saying,  Luckie  Howatson 

is  very  expeditious,  for  this  lass' 

Here  the  desultory  and  long-winded  narrative  of  the  Laird 
was  interrupted  by  the  voice  of  some  one  ascending  the  stairs 
from  the  kitchen  story,  and  singing  at  full  pitch  of  voice. 
The  high  notes  were  too  shrill  for  a  man,  the  low  seemed 
too  deep  for  a  woman.  The  words,  as  far  as  Mannering 
could  distinguish  them,  seemed  to  run  thus: 

Canny  moment,   lucky  fit ; 

Is  the    lady   lighter  yet? 

Be  it  lad  or  be  it  lass, 

Sign  wi'  cross  and  sain  wi'  mass. 

'It  's  Meg  Merrilies,  the  gipsy,  a  sure  as  I  am  a  sinner,' 
said  Mr.  Bertram.  The  Dominie  groaned  deeply,  uncrossed 
his  legs,  drew  in  the  huge  splay  foot  which  his  former  posture 
had  extended,  placed  it  perpendicularly,  and  stretched  the 
other  limb  over  it  instead,  puffing  out  between  whiles  huge 
volumes  of  tobacco-smoke.  'What  needs  ye  groan,  Dominie? 
I  am  sure  Meg's  sangs  do  nae  ill.' 

'Nor  good  neither,"  answered  Dominie  Sampson,  in  a  voice 
whose  untuneable  harshness  corresponded  with  the  awkward- 
ness of  his  figure.  They  were  the  first  words  which  Man- 
nering had  heard  him  speak ;  and  as  he  had  been  watching 
with  some  curiosity  when  this  eating,  drinking,  moving,  and 
smoking  automaton  would  perform  the  part  of  speaking,  he 
was  a  good  deal  diverted  with  the  harsh  timber  tones  which 
issued  from  him.  But  at  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
Meg  Merrilies  entered. 

Her  appearance  made  Mannering  start.  She  was  full  six 
feet  high,  wore  a  man's  great-coat  over  the  rest  of  her  dress, 
had  in  her  hand  a  goodly  sloe-thorn  cudgel,  and  in  all  points 
of  equipment,  except  her  petticoats,  seemed  rather  masculine 
than  feminine.  Her  dark  elf-locks  shot  out  like  the  snakes 
of  the  gorgon,  between  an  old-fashioned  bonnet  called  a 
bongrace,  heightening  the  singular  effect  of  her  strong  and 
weather-beaten  features,  which  they  partly  shadowed,  while 


GUY   HANKERING  41 

her  eye  had  a  wild  roll  that  indicated  something  like  real  or 
affected  insanity. 

'Aweel,  Ellangowan,'  she  said,  'wad  it  no  hae  been  a 
bonnie  thing  an  the  leddy  had  been  brought  to  bed  and  me 
at  the  fair  o'  Drumshourloch,  no  kenning  nor  dreaming  a 
word  about  it  ?  Wha  was  to  hae  keepit  awa  the  worriecows, 
1  trow  ? — aye,  and  the  elves  and  gyre-carlings  f rae  the  bonny 
bairn,  grace  be  wi'  it?  Aye,  or  said  Saint  Colme's  charm 
for  its  sake,  the  dear  ?'  And  without  waiting  an  answer,  she 
began  to  sing — 

Trefoil,  vervain,  John's-wort,   drill, 
Hinders  witches   of  their  will  ; 
Weel   is  them,   that   weel   may 
Fast  upon  St.  Andrew's  daj'. 

Saint  Bride  and  her  brat. 

Saint   Colme   and   his  cat, 

Saint  Michael  and  his  spear. 

Keep  the  house  frae  reif  and  wear. 

This  charm  she  sung  to  a  wild  tune,  in  a  high  and  shrill 
voice,  and  cutting  three  capers  with  such  strength  and  agility 
as  almost  to  touch  the  roof  of  the  room,  concluded,  'And 
now,  Laird,  will  ye  no  order  me  a  tass  o'  brandy?' 

'That  you  shall  have,  Meg — Sit  down  yont  there  at  the 
door,  and  tell  us  what  news  ye  have  heard  at  the  fair  o' 
Drumshourloch.' 

'Troth,  Laird,  and  there  was  nauckle  want  o'  you,  and  the 
like  o'  you ;  for  there  was  a  whin  bonnie  lasses  there,  forbye 
mysell,  and  deil  ane  to  gie  them  hansels.' 

'Weel,  Meg,  and  how  mony  gipsies  were  sent  to  the 
tolbooth  ?' 

'Troth,  but  three.  Laird,  for  there  were  nae  mair  in  the 
fair,  bye  mysell,  as  I  said  before,  and  1  e'en  gae  them  leg- 
bail,  for  there's  nae  ease  in  dealing  wi'  quarrelsome  fowk. 
And  there's  Dunbog  has  warned  the  Red  Rotten  and  John 
Young  aff  his  grunds — black  be  his  cast !  he's  nae  gentleman, 
nor  drap's  build  o'  gentleman,  wad  grudge  twa  gangrel  puir 
bodies  the  shelter  o'  a  waste  house,  and  the  thristles  by  ihe 
road-side  for  a  bit  cuddy,  and  the  bits  o'  rotten  birk  to  boil 
their  drap  parritch   wi'.     Weel,  there's  ane   abune  a' — but 


42  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

we'll  see  if  the  red  cock  craw  not  in  his  bonnie  barn-yard  ae 
morning  before  day-dawing.' 

'Hush  !  Meg,  hush  !  hush  !  that's  not  safe  talk.' 

'What  does  she  mean  ?'  said  Mannering  to  Sampson,  in  an 
under  tone. 

'Fire-raising,'  answered  the  laconic  Dominie. 

'Who,  or  what  is  she,  in  the  name  of  wonder?' 

'Harlot,  thief,  witch,  and  gipsy,'  answered  Sampson  again. 

'Oh  troth.  Laird,'  continued  Meg,  during  this  by-talk,  "it's 
but  to  the  like  o'  you  ane  can  open  their  heart.  Ye  see,  they 
say  Dunbog  is  nae  mair  a  gentleman  than  the  blunker  that's 
biggit  the  bonnie  house  down  in  the  howm.  But  the  like  o' 
you.  Laird,  that's  a  real  gentleman  for  sae  mony  hundred 
years,  and  never  hunds  puir  fowk  aff  your  grund  as  if  they 
were  mad  tykes,  name  o'  our  fowk  wad  stir  your  gear  if  ye 
had  as  mony  capons  as  there's  leaves  on  the  trysting-tree. — 
And  now  some  o'  ye  maun  lay  down  your  watch,  and  tell  me 
the  very  minute  o'  the  hour  the  wean  's  born,  and  I'll  spae 
its  fortune.' 

'Aye,  but,  Meg,  we  shall  not  want  your  assistance,  for 
here's  a  student  from  Oxford  that  kens  much  better  than 
you  how  to  spae  its  fortune — he  does  it  by  the  stars.' 

'Certainly,  sir,'  said  Mannering,  entering  into  the  simple 
humour  of  his  landlord.  'I  will  calculate  his  nativity  ac- 
cording to  the  rule  of  the  Triplicities,  as  recommended  by 
Pythagoras,  Hippocrates,  Diodes,  and  Avicenna.  Or  I  will 
begin  ab  hora  qncstionis,  as  Haly,  Messahala,  Ganwehis,  and 
Guido  Bonatus,  have  recommended.' 

One  of  Sampson's  great  recommendations  to  the  favour 
of  Mr.  Bertram  was,  that  he  never  detected  the  most  gross 
attempt  at  imposition,  so  that  the  Laird,  whose  humble  efforts 
at  jocularity  were  chiefly  confined  to  what  were  then  called 
bites  and  bams,  since  denominated  hoaxes  and  quizzes,  had 
the  fairest  possible  subject  of  wit  in  the  unsuspecting  Dom- 
inie. It  is  true,  he  never  laughed,  or  joined  in  the  laugh 
which  his  own  simplicity  afforded — nay,  it  is  said  he  ne^-^er 
laughed  but  once  in  his  life ;  and  on  that  memorable  occasion 
his  landlady  miscarried,  partly  through  surprise  at  t^ie  event 
itself,  and  partly  from  terror  at  the  hideous  grimaces  which 
attended  this  unusual  cachinnation.     The  only  effect  which 


GUY    MANNERIXG  43 

the  discovery  of  such  impositions  produced  upon  this  satur- 
nine personage  was,  to  extort  an  ejaculation  of  "Prodigious!' 
or  'Very  facetious !'  pronounced  syllabically,  but  without 
moving  a  muscle  of  his  own  countenance. 

On  the  present  occasion,  he  turned  a  gaunt  and  ghastly 
stare  upon  the  youthful  astrologer,  and  seemed  to  doubt  if 
he  had  rightly  understood  his  answer  to  his  patron. 

'I  am  afraid,  sir,'  said  Mannering,  turning  towards  him, 
'you  may  be  one  of  those  unhappy  persons  who,  their  dim 
eyes  being  unable  to  penetrate  the  starry  spheres,  and  to 
discern  therein  the  decrees  of  heaven  at  a  distance,  have 
their  hearts  barred  against  conviction  by  prejudice  and  mis- 
prision.' 

'Truly,'  said  Sampson,  'I  opine  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Knight,  and  umwhile  master  of  his  majesty's  mint,  that  the 
(pretended)  science  of  astrology  is  altogether  vain,  frivo- 
lous, and  unsatisfactory.'  And  here  he  reposed  his  oracular 
jaws. 

■Really,'  resumed  the  traveller,  'I  am  sorry  to  see  a  gentle- 
man of  your  learning  and  gravity  labotiring  under  such 
strange  blindness  and  delusion.  Will  you  place  the  brief,  the 
modern,  and  as  I  may  say,  the  vernacular  name  of  Isaac 
Newton,  in  opposition  to  the  grave  and  sonorous  authorities 
of  Dariot,  Bonatus,  Ptolemy,  Haly,  Eztler,  Dieterick,  Naibob, 
Harfurt,  Zael,  Taustettor,  Agrippa,  Duretus.  Maginus, 
Origen,  and  Argol?  Do  not  Christians  and  Heathens,  and 
Jews  and  Gentiles,  and  poets  and  philosophers,  unite  in  al- 
lowing the  starry  influences?' 

'Communis  error — it  is  a  general  mistake,'  answered  the 
inflexible  Dominie  Sampson. 

'No  so,'  replied  the  young  Englishman ;  'it  is  a  general  and 
well-grounded  belief.' 

'It  is  the  resource  of  cheaters,  knaves,  and  cozeners,'  said 
Sampson. 

'Abusns  von  tollit  iisum:  the  abuse  of  anything  does  not 
abrogate  the  lawful  use  thereof.' 

During  this  discussion,  Ellangowan  was  somewhat  like  a 
woodcock  caught  in  his  own  springe.  He  turned  his  face 
alternately  from  the  one  spokesman  to  the  other,  and  began, 
from  the  gravity  with  which  Mannering  plied  his  adversary 

D-3 


44  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

and  the  learning  which  he  displayed  in  the  controversy,  to 
give  him  credit  for  being  half  serious.  As  for  Meg,  she  fixed 
her  bewildered  eyes  upon  the  astrologer,  overpowered  by  a 
jargon  more  mysterious  than  her  own. 

Mannering  pressed  his  advantage,  and  ran  over  all  the 
hard  terms  of  art  which  a  tenacious  memory  supplied,  and 
which,  from  circumstances  hereafter  to  be  noticed,  had  been 
familiar  to  him  in  early  youth. 

Signs  and  planets,  in  aspects  sextile,  quartile,  trine,  con- 
joined or  opposite ;  houses  of  heaven,  with  their  cusps,  hours, 
and  minutes ;  Almuten,  Almochoden,  Anahibazon,  Catahi- 
bazon ;  a  thousand  terms  of  equal  sound  and  significance, 
poured  thick  and  three-fold  upon  the  unshrinking  Dominie, 
whose  stubborn  incredulity  bore  him  out  against  the  pelting 
of  this  pitiless  storm. 

At  length  the  joyful  annunciation  that  the  lady  had  pre- 
sented her  husband  with  a  fine  boy,  and  was  (of  course) 
as  well  as  could  be  expected,  broke  off  this  intercourse.  Mr. 
Bertram  hastened  to  the  lady's  apartment,  Meg  Merrilies 
descended  to  the  kitchen  to  secure  her  share  of  the  groaning 
malt,  and  the  'ken-no'n ;  and  Mannering,  after  looking  at  his 
watch,  and  noting  with  great  exactness  the  hour  and  minute 
of  the  birth,  requested,  with  becoming  gravity,  that  the 
Dominie  would  conduct  him  to  some  place  where  he  might 
have  a  view  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 

The  schoolmaster,  without  further  answer,  rose  and  threw 
open  a  door  half-sashed  with  glass,  which  led  to  an  old- 
fashioned  terrace-walk,  behind  the  modern  house,  communi- 
cating with  the  platform  on  which  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
castle  were  situated.  The  wind  had  arisen,  and  swept  before 
it  the  clouds  which  had  formerly  obscured  the  sky.  The  moon 
was  high  and  at  the  full,  and  all  the  lesser  satellites  of  heaven 
shone  forth  in  cloudless  effulgence.  The  scene  which  their 
light  presented  to  Mannering  was  in  the  highest  degree  unex- 
pected and  striking. 

We  have  observed  that  in  the  latter  part  of  his  journey 
our  traveller  approached  the  sea-shore,  without  being  aware 
how  nearly.  He  now  perceived  that  the  ruins  of  Ellangovvan 
castle  were  situated  vipon  a  promontory,  or  projection  of 
rock,  which  formed  one  side  of  a  small  and  placid  bay  on 


GUY    MANXERIXG  45 

the  sea-shore.  The  modern  mansion  was  placed  lower, 
though  closely  adjoining,  and  the  ground  behind  it  descended 
to  the  sea  by  a  small  swelling  green  bank,  divided  into  levels 
by  natural  terraces  on  which  grew  some  old  trees,  and  termi- 
nating upon  the  white  sand.  The  other  side  of  the  bay, 
opposite  to  the  old  castle,  was  a  sloping  and  varied  promon- 
tory covered  chiefly  with  copsewood  which  on  that  favoured 
coast  grows  almost  within  watermark.  A  fisherman's  cot- 
tage peeped  from  among  the  trees.  Even  at  this  dead  hour 
of  night  there  were  lights  moving  upon  the  shore,  probably 
occasioned  by  the  unloading  a  smuggling  lugger  from  the  Isle 
of  Man,  which  was  lying  in  the  bay.  On  the  light  from  the 
sashed  door  of  the  house  being  observed,  a  halloo  from  the 
vessel,  of  'Ware  hawk !  Douse  the  glim !'  alarmed  those  who 
were  on  shore,  and  the  lights  instantly  disappeared. 

It  was  one  hour  after  midnight,  and  the  prospect  around 
was  lovely.  The  grey  old  towers  of  the  ruin,  partly  entire, 
partly  broken — here  bearing  the  rusty  weather  stains  of  ages 
and  there  partially  mantled  with  ivy,  stretched  along  the 
verge  of  the  dark  rock  which  rose  on  Mannering's  right 
hand. 

In  his  front  was  the  quiet  bay,  whose  little  waves,  crisp- 
ing and  sparkling  to  the  moonbeams,  rolled  successively 
along  its  surface,  and  dashed  with  a  soft  and  murmuring 
ripple  against  the  silvery  beach.  To  the  left  the  woods  ad- 
vanced far  into  the  ocean,  waving  in  the  moonlight  along- 
ground  of  an  undulating  and  varied  form,  and  presenting 
these  varieties  of  light  and  shade,  and  that  interesting  combi- 
nation of  glade  and  thicket,  upon  which  the  eye  delights  to 
rest,  charmed  with  what  it  sees,  yet  curious  to  pierce  still 
deeper  into  the  intricacies  of  the  woodland  scenery.  Above 
rolled  the  planets,  each,  by  its  own  liquid  orbit  of  light,  dis- 
tinguished from  the  inferior  or  more  distant  stars.  So 
strangely  can  imagination  deceive  even  those  by  whose 
volition  it  has  been  excited,  that  Mannering.  while  gazing 
upon  these  brilliant  bodies,  was  half  inclined  to  believe  in 
the  influence  ascribed  to  them  by  superstition  over  human 
events.  But  Mannering  was  a  youthful  lover,  and  might 
perhaps  be  influenced  by  the  feelings  so  exquisitely  expressed 
by  a  modern  poet : 


46  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

For  fable  is  Love's  world,  his  home,  his  birth-place: 

Delightedly  dwells  he  'mong  fays,  and  talismans. 

And  spirits,  and  delightedly  believes 

Divinities,  being  himself  divine. 

The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion. 

The  power,   the  beauty,  and  the  majesty. 

That  had  their  haunts  in  dale,  or  piny  mountains. 

Or  forest,  by  slow   stream,   or  pebbly  spring. 

Or  chasms  and  wat'ry  depths— all  these  have'vanish'd— 

They  live  no  longer  in  the  faith  of  reason  ! 

But  still  the  heart  doth  need  a  language,  still 

Doth  the  old  instinct  bring  back  the  old  names. 

And  to  yon  starry  world  they  now  are  gone, 

Spirits  of  gods,  that  used  to  share  this  earth 

Vyith  man  as  with  their  friend,  and  to  the  lover 

bonder  they  move,   from  yonder  visible  sky 

Shoot  influence  down  ;  and  even  at  this  day 

'Tis  Jupiter  who  brings  whate'er  is  great. 

And  Venus   who   brings  everything  that's   fair. 

Such  musings  soon  gave  way  to  others.  'Alas!'  he  mut- 
tered, 'my  good  old  tutor,  who  used  to  enter  so  deep  into  the 
controversy  between  Heydon  and  Chambers  on  the  subject 
of  Astrology, — he  would  have  looked  upon  the  scene  with 
other  eyes,  and  would  have  seriously  endeavoured  to  discover 
from  the  respective  positions  of  these  luminaries  their  prob- 
able effects  on  the  destiny  of  the  new-born  infant,  as  if  the 
courses  or  emanations  of  the  stars  superseded,  or,  at  least, 
were  co-ordinate  with,  Divine  Providence.  Well,  rest  be 
with  him! — he  instilled  into  me  enough  of  knowledge  for 
erecting  a  scheme  of  nativity,  and  therefore  will  I  presently 
go  about  it.'  So  saying,  and  having  noted  the  position  of  the 
principal  planetary  bodies,  Guy  Mannering  returned  to  the 
house.  The  Laird  met  him  in  the  parlour,  and  acquainting 
him,  with  great  glee,  that  the  boy  was  a  fine  healthy  little 
fellow,  seemed  rather  disposed  to  press  further  conviviality. 
He  admitted,  however,  Mannering's  plea  of  weariness,  and, 
conducting  him  to  his  sleeping  apartment,  left  him  to  repose 
for  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Come  and  see !  trust  thine  own  eyes, 

A  fearful  sign  stands  in  the  house  of  life. 
An  enemy ;  a  fiend  lurks  close  behind 
The  radiance  of  they  planet — O  be  warned  ! 
Coleridge^  from  Schiller. 

^^HE  belief  in  astrology  was  almost  universal  in  the 
I  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century;  it  began  to  waver 
-■-  and  become  doubtful  towards  the  close  of  that  period, 
and  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  the  art  fell  into  gen- 
eral disrepute,  and  even  under  general  ridicule.  Yet  it  still 
retained  many  partisans,  even  in  the  seats  of  learning. 
Grave  and  studious  men  were  loth  to  relinquish  the  calcula- 
tions which  had  early  become  the  principal  objects  of  their 
studies,  and  felt  reluctant  to  descend  from  the  predominating 
height  to  which  a  supposed  insight  into  futurity,  by  the 
power  of  consulting  abstract  influences  and  conjunctions,  had 
exalted  them  over  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Among  those  who  cherished  this  imaginary  privilege  with 
undoubting  faith,  was  an  old  clergyman,  with  whom  Manner- 
ing  was  placed  during  his  youth.  He  wasted  his  eyes  in 
observing  the  stars,  and  his  brains  in  calculations  upon 
their  various  combinations.  His  pupil,  in  early  youth,  natur- 
ally caught  some  portion  of  his  enthusiasm,  and  laboured  for 
a  time  to  make  himself  master  of  the  technical  process  of 
astrological  research;  so  that,  before  he  became  convinced  of 
its  absurdity,  William  Lilly  himself  would  have  allowed  him 
a  curious  fancy  and  piercing  judgement  in  resolving  a  ques- 
tion of  nativity.' 

On  the  present  occasion,  he  arose  as  early  in  the  morning 
as  the  shortness  of  the  day  permitted,  and  proceeded  to  cal- 
culate the  nativity  of  the  young  heir  of  Ellangowan.  He 
undertook  the  task  secundum  arlcm,  as  well  to  keep  up  ap- 
pearances, as  from  a  sort  of  curiosity  to  know  whether  he 
yet  remembered,  and  could  practice,  the  imaginary  science. 

47 


48  SIR    WyVLTER    SCOTT 

He  accordingly  erected  his  scheme,  or  figure  of  heaven, 
divided  into  its  twelve  houses,  placed  the  planets  therein 
according  to  the  Ephemeris,  and  rectified  their  position  to  the 
hour  and  moment  of  the  nativity.  Without  troubling  our 
readers  with  the  general  prognostications  which  judicial  as- 
trology would  have  inferred  from  these  circumstances,  in  this 
diagram  there  was  one  significator  which  pressed  remarkably 
upon  our  astrologer's  attention.  Mars  having  dignity  in  the 
cusp  of  the  twelfth  house,  threatened  captivity,  or  sudden 
and  violent  death,  to  the  native ;  and  Mannering  having  re- 
course to  those  further  rules  by  which  diviners  pretend  to 
ascertain  the  vehemency  of  this  evil  direction,  observed  from 
the  result,  that  three  periods  would  be  particularly  hazard- 
ous— his  fifth — his  tenth — his  tzventy-first  year. 

It  was  somewhat  remarkable,  that  Mannering  had  once 
before  tried  a  similar  piece  of  foolery,  at  the  instance  of 
Sophia  Wellwood,  the  young  lady  to  whom  he  was  attached, 
and  that  a  similar  conjunction  of  planetary  influence  threat- 
ened her  with  death,  or  imprisonment,  in  her  thirty-ninth 
year.  She  was  at  this  time  eighteen ;  so  that,  according  to 
the  result  of  the  scheme  in  both  cases,  the  same  year  threat- 
ened her  with  the  same  misfortune  that  was  presaged  to  the 
native  or  infant,  whom  that  night  had  introduced  into  the 
world.  Struck  with  this  coincidence.  Mannering  repeated  his 
calculations;  and  the  result  approximated  the  events  pre- 
dicted, imtil  at  length  the  same  month  and  day  of  the  montli, 
seemed  assigned  as  the  period  of  peril  to  both. 

It  will  be  readily  believed,  that  in  mentioning  this  circum- 
stance we  lay  no  weight  whatever  upon  the  pretended  in- 
formation thus  conveyed.  But  it  often  happens,  such  is  our 
natural  love  for  the  marvellous,  that  we  willingly  contribute 
our  own  efforts  to  beguile  our  better  judgements.  Whether 
the  coincidence  which  I  have  mentioned  was  really  one  of 
those  singular  chances,  which  sometimes  happen  against  all 
ordinary  calculations;  or  whether  Mannering,  bewildered 
amid  the  arithmetical  labyrinth  and  technical  jargon  o£ 
astrology,  had  insensibly  twice  followed  the  same  clue  to 
guide  him  out  of  the  maze ;  or  whether  his  imagination,  se- 
duced by  some  point  of  apparent  resemblance,  lent  its  aid  to 
make  the  similitude  between  the  two  operations  more  exactly 


GUY    MAXNERING  49 

accurate  than  it  might  otherwise  have  been,  it  is  impossible 
to  guess ;  but  the  impression  upon  his  mind  that  the  results 
exactly  corresponded  was  vividly  and  indelibly  strong. 

He  could  not  help  feeling  surprise  at  a  coincidence  so 
singular  and  unexpected.  'Does  the  devil  mingle  in  the 
dance,  to  avenge  himself  for  our  trifling  with  an  art  said  to 
be  of  magical  origin?  or  is  it  possible,  as  Bacon  and  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  admit,  that  there  is  some  truth  in  a  sober 
and  regulated  astrology,  and  that  the  influence  of  the  stars 
is  not  to  be  denied,  though  the  due  application  of  it,  by  the 
knaves  who  pretend  to  practise  the  art,  is  greatly  to  be 
suspected?' — A  moment's  consideration  of  the  subject  in- 
duced him  to  dismiss  this  opinion  as  fantastical,  and  only 
sanctioned  by  those  learned  men,  either  because  they  durst 
not  at  once  shock  the  universal  prejudices  of  their  age,  or 
because  they  themselves  were  not  altogether  freed  from  the 
contagious  influence  of  a  prevailing  superstition.  Yet  the 
result  of  his  calculations  in  these  two  instances  left  so  un- 
pleasing  an  impression  on  his  mind,  that,  like  Prospero,  he 
mentally  relinquished  his  art,  and  resolved,  neither  in  jest 
nor  earnest,  ever  again  to  practise  judicial  astrology. 

He  hesitated  a  good  deal  what  he  should  say  to  the  Laird 
of  Ellangowan  concerning  the  horoscope  of  his  first-born; 
and  at  length  resolved  plainly  to  tell  him  the  judgement 
which  he  had  formed,  at  the  same  time  acquainting  him  with 
the  futility  of  the  rules  of  art  on  which  he  had  proceeded. 
With  this  resolution  he  walked  out  upon  the  terrace. 

H  the  view  of  the  scene  around  Ellangowan  had  been 
pleasing  by  moonlight,  it  lost  none  of  its  beauty  by  the  light 
of  the  morning  sun.  The  land,  even  in  the  month  of  No- 
vember, smiled  under  its  influence.  A  steep  but  regular 
ascent  led  from  the  terrace  to  the  neighbouring  eminence, 
and  conducted  Mannering  to  the  front  of  the  old  castle.  It 
consisted  of  two  massive  round  towers,  projecting,  deeply 
and  darkly,  at  the  extreme  angles  of  a  curtain,  or  flat  wall, 
which  united  them,  and  thus  protecting  the  main  entrance 
that  opened  through  a  lofty  arch  in  the  centre  of  the  curtain 
into  the  inner  court  of  the  castle.  The  arms  of  the  family, 
carved  in  freestone,  frowned  over  the  gateway,  and  the 
portal  showed  the  spaces  arranged  by  the  architect  for  lower- 


50  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ing  the  portcullis,  and  raising  the  drawbridge.  A  rude  farm- 
gate,  made  of  young  fir-trees  nailed  together,  now  formed 
the  only  safeguard  of  this  once  formidable  entrance.  The 
esplanade  in  front  of  the  castle  commanded  a  noble  prospect. 

The  dreary  scene  of  desolation,  through  which  Manner- 
ing's  road  had  Iain  on  the  preceding  evening,  was  excluded 
from  the  view  by  some  rising  ground,  and  the  landscape 
showed  a  pleasing  alternation  of  hill  and  dale,  intersected 
by  a  river,  which  was  in  some  places  visible,  and  hidden  in 
others  where  it  rolled  betwixt  deep  and  wooded  banks.  The 
spire  of  a  church,  and  the  appearance  of  some  houses,  in- 
dicated the  situation  of  a  village  at  the  place  where  the  stream 
had  its  junction  with  the  ocean.  The  vales  seemed  well  culti- 
vated, the  little  enclosures  into  v/hich  they  were  divided 
skirting  the  bottom  of  the  hills,  and  sometimes  carrying  their 
lines  of  straggling  hedge-rows  a  little  way  up  the  ascent. 
Above  these  were  green  pastures,  tenanted  chiefly  by  herds 
of  black  cattle,  then  the  staple  commodity  of  the  country, 
whose  distant  low  gave  no  unpleasing  animation  to  the 
landscape.  The  remoter  hills  were  of  a  sterner  charactei, 
and  at  still  greater  distance  swelled  into  mountains  of  dark 
heath,  bordering  the  horizon  with  a  screen,  which  gave  a 
defined  and  limited  boundary  to  the  cultivated  country,  and 
added  at  the  same  time  the  pleasing  idea  that  it  was  seques- 
tered and  solitary.  The  sea-coast,  which  Mannering  now  saw 
in  its  extent,  corresponded  in  variety  and  beauty  with  the 
inland  view.  In  some  places  it  rose  into  tall  rocks,  fre- 
quently crowned  with  the  ruins  of  old  buildings,  towers,  or 
beacons,  which,  according  to  tradition,  were  placed  within 
sight  of  each  other,  that  in  times  of  invasion  or  civil  war 
they  might  communicate  by  signal  for  mutual  defence  and 
protection.  Ellangowan  Castle  was  by  far  the  most  extensive 
and  important  of  these  ruins,  and  asserted,  from  size  and 
situation,  the  superiority  which  its  founders  were  said  once  to 
have  possessed  among  the  chiefs  and  nobles  of  the  district. 
In  other  places,  the  shore  was  of  a  more  gentle  description, 
indented  with  small  bays,  where  the  land  sloped  smoothly 
down,  or  sent  into  the  sea  promontories  covered  with  wood. 

A  scene  so  different  from  what  last  night's  journey  had 
presaged,  produced  a  proportional  effect  upon  Mannerin^. 


GUY    MANNERIXG  51 

Beneath  his  eye  lay  the  modern  house — an  awkward  man- 
sion, indeed,  in  point  of  architecture,  but  well  situated,  and 
with  a  warm  pleasant  exposure. — 'How  happily,'  thought 
our  hero,  'would  life  glide  on  in  such  a  retirement!  On  the 
one  hand,  the  striking  remnants  of  ancient  grandeur,  with 
the  secret  consciousness  of  family  pride  which  they  inspire; 
on  the  other,  enough  of  modern  elegance  and  comfort  to 
satisfy  every  moderate  wish.  Here  then,  and  with  thee, 
Sophia ! — ' 

We  shall  not  pursue  a  lover's  day-dream  any  further. 
Mannering  stood  a  minute  with  his  arms  folded,  and  then 
turned  to  the  ruined  castle. 

On  entering  the  gateway,  he  found  that  the  rude  magnifi- 
cence of  the  inner  court  amply  corresponded  with  the 
grandeur  of  the  exterior.  On  the  one  side  ran  a  range  of 
windows,  lofty  and  large,  divided  by  carved  mullions  of 
stone,  which  had  once  lighted  the  great  hall  of  the  castle ;  on 
the  other  were  various  buildings  of  different  heights  and 
dates,  yet  so  united  as  to  present  to  the  eye  a  certain  general 
effect  of  uniformity  of  front.  The  doors  and  windows  were 
ornamented  with  projections,  exhibiting  rude  specimens  of 
sculpture  and  tracery,  partly  entire  and  partly  broken  down, 
partly  covered  by  ivy  and  trailing  plants,  which  grew  luxuri- 
antly among  the  ruins.  That  end  of  the  court  which  faced 
the  entrance  had  also  been  formerly  closed  by  a  range  of 
buildings ;  but  owing,  it  was  said,  to  its  having  been  battered 
by  the  ships  of  the  Parliament  under  Deane,  during  the  long 
civil  war,  this  part  of  the  castle  was  much  more  ruinous  than 
the  rest,  and  exhibited  a  great  chasm,  through  which  Man- 
nering could  observe  the  sea.  and  the  little  vessel  (an  armed 
lugger)  which  retained  her  station  in  the  centre  of  the  bay.* 
While  Mannering  was  gazing  round  the  ruins,  he  heard 
from  the  interior  of  an  apartment  on  the  left  hand  the  voice 
of  the  gipsy  he  had  seen  on  the  preceding  evening.  He  soon 
found  an  aperture  through  which  he  could  observe  her  with- 
out being  himself  visible ;  and  could  not  help  feeling  that  her 
figure,  her  employment,  and  her  situation,  conveyed  the  exact 
impression  of  an  ancient  sibyl. 

*The  outline  of  the  above  description,  as  far  as  the  supposed  ruin^  are 
concerned,  will  be  found  somewhat  to  resemble  the  noble  remains  of  Carla- 
vcrock  Castle,  six  or  seven  miles  from  Dumfries,  and  near  to  Locharmoss. 


5^  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

She  sat  upon  a  broken  corner-stone  in  the  angle  of  a. 
paved  apartment,  part  of  which  she  had  swept  clean  to  afford 
a  smooth  space  for  the  evolutions  of  her  spindle.  A  strong 
sunbeam,  through  a  lofty  and  narrow  window,  fell  upon  her 
wild  dress  and  features,  and  afforded  her  light  for  her  occu- 
pation ;  the  rest  of  the  apartment  was  very  gloomy.  Equipped 
in  a  habit  which  mingled  the  national  dress  of  the  Scottish 
common  people  with  something  of  an  Eastern  costume,  she 
spun  a  thread,  drawn  from  wool  of  three  different  colours — 
black,  white,  and  grey — ^by  assistance  of  those  ancient  im- 
plements of  housewifery,  now  almost  banished  from  the 
land,  the  distaff  and  spindle.  As  she  spun,  she  sang  what 
seemed  to  be  a  charm.  Mannering,  after  in  vain  attempting 
to  make  himself  master  of  the  exact  words  of  her  song, 
afterwards  attempted  the  following  paraphrase  of  what,  from 
a  few  intelligible  phrases,  he  concluded  to  be  its  purport : — 

Twist  ye,  twine  ye !  even  so 
Mingle  shades  of  joy  and  woe, 
Hope  and  fear,  and  peace  and  strife. 
In  the  thread  of  human  life. 

While  the  mystic  twist  is  spinning, 
And  the  infant's  life  beginning. 
Dimly  seen  through  twilight  bending, 
Lo,  what  varied  shapes  attending ! 

Passions  wild,  and  Follies  vain, 
Pleasures  soon  exchanged  for  pain ; 
Doubt,  and  Jealousy,  and  Fear, 
In  the  magic  dance  appear. 

Now  they  wax,  and  now  they  dwindle, 
Whirling  with   the   whirling  spindle. 
Twist  ye,  twine  ye  !  even  so 
Mingle  human  bliss  and  woe. 

Ere  our  translator,  or  rather  our  free  imitator,  had  ar- 
ranged these  stanzas  in  his  head,  and  while  he  was  yet  ham- 
mering out  a  rhyme  for  dtvindle,  the  task  of  the  sibyl  was 
accomplished,  or  her  wool  was  expended.  She  took  the 
spindle,  now  charged  with  her  labours,  and  undoing  the 
thread,  gradually  measured  it,  by  casting  it  over  her  elbow, 
and  bringing  each  loop  round  between  her  forefinger  and 


GUY    MANNERING  53 

thumb.  When  she  had  measured  it  out,  she  muttered  to 
herself, — 'A  hank,  but  not  a  haill  ane — the  full  years  o'  three 
score  and  ten,  but  thrice  broken,  and  thrice  to  oop'  (i.e.  to 
unite)  ;  'he'll  be  a  lucky  lad  an  he  win  through  wi't.' 

Our  hero  was  about  to  speak  to  the  prophetess,  when  a 
voice,  hoarse  as  the  waves  with  which  it  mingled,  halloo'd 
twice  and  with  increasing  impatience, — 'Meg,  Meg  Merrilies  ! 
— Gipsy — hag — tousand  deyvils  !' 

'I  am  coming,  I  am  coming,  Captain,'  answered  Meg;  and 
in  a  moment  or  two  the  impatient  commander  whom  she 
addressed  made  his  appearance  from  the  broken  part  of  the 
ruins. 

He  was  apparently  a  seafaring  man,  rather  under  the 
middle  size,  and  with  a  countenance  bronzed  by  a  thousand 
conflicts  with  the  north-east  wind.  His  frame  was  prodi- 
giously muscular,  strong,  and  thickset ;  so  that  it  seemed  as 
if  a  man  of  much  greater  height  would  have  been  an  inade- 
quate match  in  any  close  personal  conflict.  He  was  hard- 
favoured,  and,  which  was  worse,  his  face  bore  nothing  of  the 
insouciance,  the  careless  frolicsome  jollity  and  vacant  curi- 
osity of  a  sailor  on  shore.  These  qualities,  perhaps,  as  much 
as  any  others,  contribute  to  the  high  popularity  of  our  sea- 
men, and  the  general  good  inclination  which  our  society 
expresses  towards  them.  Their  gallantry,  courage,  and 
hardihood,  are  qualities  which  excite  reverence,  and  perhaps 
rather  humble  pacific  landsmen  in  their  presence;  and  neither 
respect  nor  a  sense  of  humiliation,  are  feelings  easily  com- 
bined with  a  familiar  fondness  towards  those  who  inspire 
them.  But  the  boyish  frolics,  the  exulting  high  spirits,  the 
unreflecting  mirth  of  a  sailor,  when  enjoying  himself  on 
shore,  temper  the  more  formidable  points  of  his  character. 
There  was  nothing  like  these  in  this  man's  face ;  on  the  con- 
trary, a  surly  and  even  savage  scowl  appeared  to  darken 
features  which  would  have  been  harsh  and  unpleasant  under 
any  expression  or  modification.  'Where  are  you.  Mother 
Deyvilson?'  he  said,  with  somewhat  of  a  foreign  accent, 
though  speaking  perfectly  good  English.  'Donner  and 
blitzen!  we  have  been  staying  this  half  hour. — Come,  bless 
the  good  ship  and  the  voyage,  and  be  cursed  to  ye  for  a  hag 
of  Satan !' 


54,  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

At  this  moment  he  noticed  Mannering.  who,  from  the 
position  which  he  had  taken  to  watch  Meg  MerriHes's  in- 
cantations, had  the  appearance  of  some  one  who  was  con- 
ceahng  himself,  being  half  hidden  by  the  buttress  behind 
which  he  stood.  The  Captain,  for  such  he  styled  himself, 
made  a  sudden  and  startled  pause,  and  thrust  his  right  hand 
into  his  bosom,  between  his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  as  if  to 
draw  some  weapon.  'What  cheer,  brother? — you  seem  on 
the  outlook — eh?' 

Ere  Mannering,  somewhat  struck  by  the  man's  gesture 
and  insolent  tone  of  voice,  had  made  any  answer,  the  gipsy 
emerged  from  her  vault  and  joined  the  stranger.  He  ques- 
tioned her  in  an  undertone,  looking  at  Mannering — 'A  shark 
alongside — eh  ?' 

She  answered  in  the  same  tone  of  under-dialogue,  using 
the  cant  language  of  her  tribe — 'Cut  ben  whids,  and  stow 
them — a  gentry  cove  of  the  ken.'  ^ 

The  fellow's  cloudy  visage  cleared  up.  'The  top  of  the 
morning  to  you,  sir ;  I  find  you  are  a  visitor  of  my  friend 
Mr.  Bertram. — I  beg  pardon,  but  I  took  you  for  another  sort 
of  a  person.' 

Mannering  replied,  'And  you,  sir,  I  presume,  are  the  master 
of  that  vessel  in  the  bay?* 

'Aye,  aye,  sir;  I  am  Captain  Dirk  Hatteraick,  of  the 
Ynngfrauw  Hagenslaapcn,  well  known  on  this  coast;  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  my  name  nor  of  my  vessel, — no,  nor  of  my 
cargo  neither,  for  that  matter.' 

'I  dare  say  you  have  no  reason,  sir.* 

'Tousand  donner — no ;  I'm  all  in  the  way  of  fair  trade — 
Just  loaded  yonder  from  Douglas,  in  the  Isle  of  Man — neat 
cogniac — real  hyson  and  souchong — Mechlin  lace,  if  you 
want  any — Right  cogniac — We  bumped  ashore  a  hundred 
kegs  last  night.' 

'Really,  sir,  I  am  only  a  traveller,  and  have  no  sort  of 
occasion  for  anything  of  the  kind  at  present.' 

'Why,  then,  good  morning  to  you,  for  business  must  be 
minded;  unless  ye'll  go  aboard  and  take  schnaps,'  you  shall 

'  Meaning — Stop  your  uncivil  language — that  is  a  gentleman  from  the 
house  below. 

2  A  dram  of  liquor. 


GUY    MANNERING  55 

have  a  pouch ful  of  tea  ashore. — Dirk  Hattcraick  knows  how- 
to  be  civik' 

There  was  a  mixture  of  iinpudciicc.  hardihood,  and  sus- 
picious fear  about  this  man,  which  was  inexpressibly  dis- 
gusting. His  manners  were  those  of  a  ruffian,  conscious  of 
the  suspicion  attending  his  character,  yet  aiming  to  bear  it 
down  by  the  affectation  of  a  careless  and  hardy  familiarity. 
Mannering  briefly  rejected  his  proffered  civilities;  and  after 
a  surly  good  morning.  Hatteraick  retired  with  the  gipsy  to 
that  part  of  the  ruins  from  which  he  had  first  made  his 
appearance.  A  very  narrow  staircase  here  went  down  to  the 
beach,  intended  probably  for  the  convenience  of  the  garrison 
during  a  siege.  By  this  stair,  the  couple,  equally  amiable  in 
appearance  and  respectable  by  profession,  descended  to  the 
sea-side.  The  soi-disant  captain  embarked  in  a  small  boat 
with  two  men,  who  appeared  to  wait  for  him.  and  the  gipsy 
remained  on  the  shore,  reciting  or  singing,  and  gesticulating 
with  great  vehemence. 


CHAPTER   V 

You  have  fed  upon  my  seignories, 

Disparked  my  parks,  and  felled  my  forest  woods, 
From  mine  own  windows  torn  my  household  coat. 
Razed  out  my  impress,  leaving  me  no  sign. 
Save  men's  opinions  and  my  living  blood, 
To  show  the  world  I  am  a  gentleman. 

Richard  II. 

WHEN  the  boat  which  carried  the  worthy  captain 
on  board  his  vessel  had  accomplished  that  task, 
the  sails  began  to  ascend,  and  the  ship  was  got 
under  way.  She  fired  three  guns  as  a  salute  to  the  house  of 
Ellangowan,  and  then  shot  away  rapidly  before  the  wind, 
which  blew  off  shore,  under  all  the  sail  she  could  crowd. 

'Aye,  aye,'  said  the  Laird,  who  had  sought  Mannering 
for  some  time,  and  now  joined  him.  'there  they  go — there 
go  the  free-traders — there  go  Captain  Dirk  Hatteraick  and 
the  Yimgfraitw  Hagcnslaapen,  half  Manks,  half  Dutchman, 
half  devil !  run  out  the  boltsprit,  up  mainsail,  top  and  top- 
gallant sails,  royals,  and  skyscrapers,  and  away — follow  who 
can !  That  fellow,  Mr.  Mannering,  is  the  terror  of  all  the 
excise  and  custom-house  cruisers;  they  can  make  nothing  of 
him ;  he  drubs  them,  or  he  distances  them ; — and  speaking 
of  excise,  I  come  to  bring  you  to  breakfast ;  and  you  shall 
have  some  tea,  that ' 

Mannering,  by  this  time,  was  aware  that  one  thought  linked 
strangely  on  to  another  in  the  concatenation  of  worthy  Mr. 
Bertram's  ideas, 

Like  orient  pearls  at  random  strung ; 

and,  therefore,  before  the  current  of  his  associations  had 
drifted  further  from  the  point  he  had  left,  he  brought  him 
back  by  some  inquiry  about  Dirk  H^atteraick. 

'Oh,  he's  a — a — gude  sort  of  blackguard  fellow  eneugh — 
naebody  cares  to  trouble  him — smuggler,  when  his  guns  are 

5Q 


GUY    MANNERIXG  57 

in  ballast— privateer,  or  pirate,  faith,  when  he  gets  them 
mounted.  He  has  done  more  mischief  to  the  revenue  folk 
than  ony  rogue  that  ever  came  out  of  Ramsay.' 

'But,  my  good  sir,  such  being  his  character,  I  wonder  he 
has  any  protection  and  encouragement  on  this  coast.' 

'Why,  Mr.  Mannering,  people  must  have  brandy  and  tea, 
and  there's  none  in  the  country  but  what  comes  this  way — 
and  then  there's  short  accounts,  and  maybe  a  keg  or  two,  or 
a  dozen  pounds  left  at  your  stable  door,  instead  of  a  d— d 
lang  account  at  Christmas  from  Duncan  Robb  the  grocer  at 
Kippletringan,  who  has  ay  a  sum  to  make  up,  and  either 
wants  ready  money  or  a  short-dated  bill.  Now,  Hatteraick 
will  take  wood,  or  he'll  take  bark,  or  he'll  take  barley,  or 
he'll  take  just  what's  convenient  at  the  time.  I'll  tell  you  a 
gude  story  about  that.  There  was  ance  a  Laird — that's 
Macfie  of  Gudgeonford, — he  had  a  great  number  of  kain 
hens — that's  hens  that  the  tenant  pays  to  the  landlord,  like 
a  sort  of  rent  in  kind — they  ay  feed  mine  very  ill ;  I>uckie 
Finniston  sent  up  three  that  were  a  shame  to  be  seen  only 
last  week,  and  yet  she  has  twelve  bows  sowing  of  victual; 
indeed  her  good  man,  Duncan  Finniston — that's  him  that's 
gone — (for  wc  must  all  die,  Mr.  Mannering;  that's  owcr 
true) — and  speaking  of  that,  let  us  live  in  the  meanwhile,  for 
here's  breakfast  on  the  table  and  the  Dominie  ready  to  say 
the  grace.' 

The  Dominic  did  accordingly  pronounce  a  benediction,  that 
exceeded  in  length  any  speech  which  Mannering  had  yet 
heard  him  utter.  The  tea,  Avhich  of  course  belonged  to  the 
noble  Captain  Hatteraick's  trade,  was  pronounced  excellent. 
Still  Mannering  hinted,  though  with  due  delicacy,  at  the  risk 
of  encouraging  such  desperate  characters:  'Were  it  but  in 
justice  to  the  revenue,  I  should  have  supposed ' 

'Ah,  the  revenue-lads' — for  Mr.  Bertram  never  embraced 
a  general  or  abstract  idea,  and  his  notion  of  the  revenue  was 
personified  in  the  commissioners,  surve^^ors.  comptrollers, 
and  riding  officers,  whom  he  happened  to  know — 'the  revenue- 
lads  can  look  sharp  eneugh  out  for  themselves — no  ane  needs 
to  help  them— and  they  have  a'  the  soldiers  to  assist  them 
besides; — and  as  to  justice — you'll  be  surprised  to  hear  it, 
Mr.  Mannering, — but  I  am  not  a  justice  of  peace.' 


58  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Mannering  assumed  the  expected  look  of  surprise,  but 
thought  within  himself  that  the  worshipful  bench  suffered  no 
great  deprivation  from  wanting  the  assistance  of  his  good- 
humoured  landlord.  Mr.  Bertram  had  now  hit  upon  one  of 
the  few  subjects  on  which  he  felt  sore,  and  went  on  with 
some  energy. 

'No,  sir, — the  name  of  Godfrey  Bertram  of  Ellangowan 
is  not  in  the  last  commission,  though  there's  scarce  a  carle 
in  the  country  that  has  a  ploughgate  of  land,  but  what  he 
must  ride  to  quarter-sessions  and  write  J. P.  after  his  name. 
I  ken  fu'  weel  whom  I  am  obliged  to — Sir  Thomas  Kittle- 
court  as  good  as  tell'd  me  he  would  sit  in  my  skirts  if  he 
had  not  my  interest  at  the  last  election ;  and  because  I  chose 
to  go  with  my  own  blood  and  third  cousin,  the  Laird  of 
Balruddery,  they  keepit  me  off  the  roll  of  freeholders ;  and 
now  there  comes  a  new  nomination  of  justices,  and  I  am 
left  out !  And  whereas  they  pretend  it  was  because  I  let 
David  Mac-Guffog,  the  constable,  draw  the  warrants,  and 
manage  the  business  his  ain  gate,  as  if  I  had  been  a  nose 
o'  wax,  it's  a  main  untruth ;  for  I  granted  but  seven  warrants 
in  my  life,  and  the  Dominie  wrote  every  one  of  them — and  if 
it  had  not  been  that  unlucky  business  of  Sandy  Mac- 
Gruthar's,  that  the  constables  should  have  keepit  twa  or 
three  days  up  yonder  at  the  auld  castle,  just  till  they  could 
get  conveniency  to  send  him  to  the  county  jail — and  that  cost 
me  eneugh  o'  siller — But  I  ken  what  Sir  Thomas  wants  very 
weel — it  was  just  sic  and  siclike  about  the  seat  in  the  kirk  o' 
Kilmagirdle — was  I  not  entitled  to  have  the  front  gallery 
facing  the  minister,  rather  than  ]\Iac-Crosskie  of  Creoch- 
stone,  the  son  of  Deacon  Mac-Crosskie,  the  Dumfries 
weaver  ?' 

Mannering  expressed  his  acquiescence  in  the  justice  of 
these  various  complaints. 

'And  then,  Mr.  ]\lanncring,  there  was  the  story  about  the 
road,  and  the  fauld-dike — I  ken  Sir  Thomas  was  behind 
there,  and  I  said  plainly  to  the  clerk  to  the  trustees  that  I 
saw  the  cloven  foot,  let  them  take  that  as  they  like. — Would 
any  gentleman,  or  set  of  gentlemen,  go  and  drive  a  road 
right  through  the  corner  of  a  fauld-dike.  and  take  away,  as 
my  agent  observed  to  them,  like  twa  roods  of  gude  moorland 


GUY    MANNERIXG  59 

pasture? — And  there  was  the  story  about  choosing  the  col- 
lector of  the  cess ' 

'Certainly,  sir,  it  is  hard  you  should  meet  with  any  neglect 
in  a  country,  where,  to  judge  from  the  extent  of  their  resi- 
dence, your  ancestors  must  have  made  a  very  important 
figure.' 

'Very  true,  Mr.  Mannering. — I  am  a  plain  man  and  do 
not  dwell  on  these  things;  and  I  must  needs  say  I  have 
little  memory  for  them;  but  I  wish  ye  could  have  heard  my 
father's  stories  about  the  auld  fights  of  the  Mac-Dingawaies 
— that's  the  Bertrams  that  now  is — wi'  the  Irish,  and  wi'  the 
Highlanders,  that  came  here  in  their  berlings  from  Hay  and 
Cantire — and  how  they  w^nt  to  the  Holy  Land — that  is,  to 
Jerusalem  and  Jericho,  wi  a'  their  clan  at  their  heels — they 
had  better  have  gaen  to  Jamaica  like  Sir  Thomas  Kittlecourt's 
uncle — and  how  they  brought  hame  relics  like  those  that 
Catholics  have,  and  a  flag  that's  up  yonder  in  the  garret — if 
they  had  been  casks  of  Muscavado  and  puncheons  of  rum, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  the  estate  at  this  day — but 
there's  little  comparison  between  the  auld  keep  at  Kittlecourt 
and  the  castle  o'  Ellangowan — I  doubt  if  the  keep  's  forty  feet 
of  front. — But  ye  make  no  breakfast,  Mr.  Mannering;  ye're 
no  eating  your  meat ; — allow  me  to  recommend  some  of  the 
kipper — It  was  John  Hay  that  catcht  it,  Saturday  was  three 
weeks,  down  at  the  stream  below  Hempseed  ford,'  &c.  &c.  &c. 

The  Laird,  whose  indignation  had  for  some  time  kept 
him  pretty  steady  to  one  topic,  now  launched  forth  into 
his  usual  roving  style  of  conversation,  which  gave  Manner- 
ing ample  time  to  reflect  upon  the  disadvantages  attending 
the  situation,  which,  an  hour  before,  he  had  thought  worthy 
of  so  much  envy.  Here  was  a  country  gentleman,  whose 
most  estimable  quality  seemed  his  perfect  good  nature, 
secretly  fretting  himself  and  murmuring  against  others,  for 
causes  which,  compared  with  any  real  evil  in  life,  must 
weigh  like  dust  in  the  balance.  But  such  is  the  equal 
distribution  of  Providence.  To  those  who  lie  out  of  the 
road  of  great  afflictions,  are  assigned  petty  vexations  which 
answer  all  the  purpose  of  disturbing  their  serenity;  and 
every  reader  must  have  observed  that  neither  natural  apathy 
nor  acquired  philosophy  can  render  country  gentlemen  in- 


60  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT 

sensible  to  the  grievances  which  occur  at  elections,  quarter- 
sessions,  and  meetings  of  trustees. 

Curious  to  investigate  the  manners  of  the  country,  !Man- 
nering  took  the  advantage  of  a  pause  in  good  Mr.  Bertram's 
string  of  stories,  to  inquire  what  Captain  Hatteraick  so 
earnestly  wanted  with  the  gipsy  woman. 

'Oh,  to  bless  his  ship,  I  suppose.  You  must  know,  Mr. 
Mannering,  that  these  free-traders,  whom  the  law  calls 
smugglers,  having  no  religion,  make  it  all  up  in  superstition : 
and  they  have  as  many  spells,  and  charms,  and  nonsense ' 

'Vanity  and  waur  !'  said  the  Dominie:  it  is  a  trafficking 
with  the  Evil  One.  Spells,  periapts,  and  charms,  are  of  his 
device — choice  arrows  out  of  ApoUyon's  quiver.' 

'Hold  your  peace,  Dominie — ye're  speaking  for  ever' — 
(by  the  way,  they  were  the  first  words  the  poor  man  had 
uttered  that  morning,  excepting  that  he  said  grace,  and 
returned  thanks) — 'Mr.  IMannering  cannot  get  in  a  word  for 
ye ! — And  so,  Mr.  Mannering,  talking  of  astronomy,  and 
spells,  and  these  matters,  have  ye  been  so  kind  as  to  consider 
what  we  were  speaking  about  last  night?' 

'I  begin  to  think.  Mr.  Bertram,  with  your  worthy  friend 
here,  that  I  have  been  rather  jesting  with  edge-tools:  and 
although  neither  you  nor  I,  nor  any  sensible  man,  can  put 
faith  in  the  predictions  of  astrology,  yet  as  it  has  sometimes 
happened  that  inquiries  into  futurity,  undertaken  in  jest, 
have  in  their  results  produced  serious  and  unpleasant  effects 
both  upon  actions  and  characters,  I  really  wish  you  would 
dispense  with  my  replying  to  your  question.' 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  this  evasive  answer  only  rendered 
the  Laird's  curiosity  more  uncontrollable.  Mannering,  how- 
ever, was  determined  in  his  own  mind,  not  to  expose  the 
infant  to  the  inconveniences  which  might  have  arisen  from 
his  being  supposed  the  object  of  evil  prediction.  He  there- 
fore delivered  the  paper  into  Mr.  Bertram's  hand,  and  re- 
quested him  to  keep  it  for  five  years  with  the  seal  unbroken, 
until  the  month  of  November  was  expired.  After  that  date 
had  intervened,  he  left  him  at  liberty  to  examine  the  writing, 
trusting  that  the  first  fatal  period  being  then  safely  over- 
passed, no  credit  would  be  paid  to  its  further  contents. — This 
Mr.  Bertram  was  content  tp  promise,  and  Mannering,  to  in- 


GUY    MAKNERIXG  61 

sure  his  fidelity,  hinted  at  misfortunes  which  would  certainly 
take  place  if  his  injunctions  were  neglected.  The  rest  of  the 
day,  which  Mannering  by  Mr.  Bertram's  invitation  spent  at 
Ellangowan,  passed  over  without  anything  remarkable ;  and 
on  the  morning  of  that  which  followed,  the  traveller  mounted 
his  palfrey,  bade  a  courteous  adieu  to  his  hospitable  landlord 
and  to  his  clerical  attendant,  repeated  his  good  wishes  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  family,  and  then  turning  his  horse's  head 
towards  England,  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the  inmates 
of  Ellangowan.  He  must  also  disappear  from  that  of  our 
readers,  for  it  is  to  another  and  later  period  of  his  life  that 
the  present  narrative  relates. 


CHAPTER   VI 

-Next,   the  Justice, 


In  fair  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lined. 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  sav.'s  and  modern  instances, 
And  so  he  plays  his  part. 

As  Yon  Like  It. 

WHEN  Mrs.  Bertram  of  Ellangowan  was  able  to 
hear  the  news  of  what  had  passed  during  her  con- 
finement, her  apartment  rung  with  all  manner  of 
gossiping  respecting  the  handsome  young  student  from  Ox- 
ford, who  had  told  such  a  fortune  by  the  stars  to  the  young 
Laird,  'blessings  on  his  dainty  face.'  The  form,  accent,  and 
manners  of  the  stranger  were  expatiated  upon :  his  horse, 
bridle,  saddle,  and  stirrups,  did  not  remain  unnoticed.  All 
this  made  a  great  impression  upon  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Bertram, 
for  the  good  lady  had  no  small  store  of  superstition. 

Her  first  employment  when  she  became  capable  of  a  little 
work,  was  to  make  a  small  velvet  bag  for  the  scheme  of 
nativity  which  she  had  obtained  from  her  husband.  Her 
fingers  itched  to  break  the  seal,  but  credulity  proved  stronger 
than  curiosity ;  and  she  had  the  firmness  to  enclose  it,  in  all 
its  integrity,  within  two  slips  of  parchment  which  she  sewed 
round  it  to  prevent  its  being  chafed.  The  whole  was  then 
put  into  the  velvet  bag  aforesaid,  and  hung  as  a  charm  round 
the  neck  of  the  infant,  where  his  mother  resolved  it  should 
remain  until  the  period  for  the  legitimate  satisfaction  of  her 
curiosity  should  arrive. 

The  father  also  resolved  to  do  his  part  by  the  child,  in 
securing  him  a  good  education :  and  with  the  view  that  it 
should  commence  with  the  first  dawnings  of  reason.  Dominie 
Sampson  was  easily  induced  to  renounce  his  public  profes- 
sion of  parish  schoolmaster,  make  his  constant  residence  at 
the  Place,  and,  in  consideration  of  a  sum  not  quite  equal  to  the 
wages  of  a  footman  even  at  that  time,  to  undertake  to  com- 

62 


GUY    MANNERING  63 

municate  to  the  future  Laird  of  Ellangowan  all  the  erudition 
which  he  had,  and  all  the  graces  and  accomplishments  which 
— he  had  not.  indeed,  but  which  he  had  never  discovered  that 
he  wanted.  In  this  arrangement  the  Laird  found  also  his 
private  advantage ;  securing  the  constant  benefit  of  a  patient 
auditor,  to  whom  he  told  his  stories  when  they  were  alone, 
and  at  whose  expense  he  could  break  a  sly  jest  when  he  had 
company. 

About  four  years  after  this  time,  a  great  commotion  took 
place  in  the  county  where  Ellangowan  is  situated. 

Those  who  watched  the  signs  of  the  times,  had  long  been 
of  opinion  that  a  change  of  ministry  was  about  to  take  place; 
and  at  length,  after  a  d  e  proportion  of  hopes,  fears,  and 
delays,  rumours  from  good  authority  and  bad  authority,  and 
no  authority  at  all;  after  some  clubs  had  drank  Up  with  this 
statesman,  and  others  Down  with  him ;  after  riding  and  run- 
ning and  posting,  and  addressing  and  counter-addressing,  and 
proffers  of  lives  and  fortunes,  the  blow  was  at  length  struck, 
the  administration  of  the  day  was  dissolved,  and  parliament, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  was  dissolved  also. 

Sir  Thomas  Kittlccourt,  like  other  members  in  the  same 
situation,  posted  down  to  his  county,  and  met  but  an  indif- 
ferent reception.  He  was  a  partisan  of  the  old  administra- 
tion; and  the  friends  of  the  new  had  already  set  about  an 
active  canvass  in  behalf  of  John  Featherhead.  Esq..  who 
kept  the  best  hounds  and  hunters  in  the  shire.  Among  others 
who  joined  the  standard  of  revolt  was  Gilbert  Glossin,  writer 

in  ,  agent  for  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan.     This  honest 

gentleman  had  either  been  refused  some  favour  by  the  old 
member,  or,  what  is  as  probable,  he  had  got  all  that  he  had 
the  most  distant  pretension  to  ask,  and  could  only  look  to  the 
other  side  for  fresh  advancement.  Mr.  Glossin  had  a  vote 
upon  Ellangowan's  property ;  and  he  was  now  determined 
that  his  patron  should  have  one  also,  there  being  no  doubt 
which  side  Mr.  Bertram  would  embrace  in  the  contest.  He 
easily  persuaded  Ellangowan,  that  it  would  be  creditable  to 
him  to  take  the  field  at  the  head  of  as  strong  a  party  as 
possible ;  and  immediately  went  to  work,  making  votes,  as 
every  Scotch  lawyer  knows  how,  by  splitting  and  subdividing 
the  superiorities  upon  this  ancient  and  once  powerful  barony. 


61  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

These  were  so  extensive,  that  by  dint  of  clipping  and  paring 
here,  adding  and  eking  there,  and  creating  over-lords  upon 
all  the  estate  which  Bertram  held  of  the  crown,  they  ad- 
vanced, at  the  day  of  contest,  at  the  head  of  ten  as  good 
men  of  parchment  as  ever  took  the  oath  of  trust  and  posses- 
sion. This  strong  reinforcement  turned  the  dubious  day  of 
battle.  The  principal  and  his  agent  divided  the  honour;  the 
reward  fell  to  the  latter  exclusively.  Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin 
was  made  clerk  of  the  peace,  and  Godfrey  Bertram  had  his 
name  inserted  in  a  new  commission  of  justices,  issued  im- 
mediately upon  the  sitting  of  the  parliament. 

This  had  been  the  summit  of  Mr.  Bertram's  ambition; — 
not  that  he  liked  either  the  trouble  or  the  responsibility  of 
the  office,  but  he  thought  it  was  a  dignity  to  which  he  was 
well  entitled,  and  that  it  had  been  withheld  from  him  by 
malice  prepense.  But  there  is  an  old  and  true  Scotch 
proverb, — 'Fools  should  not  have  chapping  sticks;'  that  is, 
weapons  of  offence.  Mr.  Bertram  was  no  sooner  possessed 
of  the  judicial  authority  which  he  had  so  much  longed  for, 
than  he  began  to  exercise  it  with  more  severity  than  mercy, 
and  totally  belied  all  the  opinions  which  had  hitherto  been 
formed  of  his  inert  good  nature.  We  have  read  somewhere 
of  a  justice  of  peace,  who,  on  being  nominated  in  the  com- 
mission, wrote  a  letter  to  a  bookseller  for  the  statutes  re- 
specting his  official  duty,  in  the  following  orthography, — 
'Please  send  the  ax  relating  to  a  gustus  pease.'  No  doubt, 
when  this  learned  gentleman  had  possessed  himself  of  the 
axe,  he  hewed  the  laws  with  it  to  some  purpose.  Mr.  Ber- 
tram was  not  quite  so  ignorant  of  English  grammar  as  his 
worshipful  predecessor ;  but  Augustus  Pease  himself  could 
not  have  used  more  indiscriminately  the  weapon  unwarily 
put  into  his  hand. 

In  good  earnest,  he  considered  the  commission  with  which 
he  had  been  entrusted  as  a  personal  mark  of  favour  from  his 
sovereign :  forgetting  that  he  had  formerly  thought  his  being 
deprived  of  a  privilege,  or  honour,  common  to  those  of  his 
rank,  was  the  result  of  mere  party  cabal.  He  commanded 
his  trusty  aide  de  camp.  Dominie  Sampson,  to  read  aloud  the 
commission;  and  at  the  first  words,  'The  king  has  been 
pleased  to  appoint' — 'Pleased!'  he  exclaimed,  in  a  transport 


GUY    MANXERTNG  6.> 

of  gratitude —  'honest  gentleman !     I'm  sure  he  cannot  be 
better  pleased  than  I  am.' 

Accordingly,  unwilling  to  confine  his  gratitude  to  mere 
feelings,  or  verbal  expressions,  he  gave  full  current  to  the 
new-born  zeal  of  office,  and  endeavoured  to  express  his 
sense  of  the  honour  conferred  upon  him,  by  an  unmitigated 
activity  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  New  brooms,  it  is 
said,  sweep  clean ;  and  I  myself  can  bear  witness  that  on  the 
arrival  of  a  new  housemaid,  the  ancient,  hereditary,  and 
domestic  spiders,  who  have  spun  their  webs  over  the  lower 
division  of  my  book-shelves  (consisting  chiefly  of  law  and 
divinity)  during  the  peaceful  reign  of  her  predecessor,  fly 
at  full  speed  before  the  probationary  inroads  of  the  new 
mercenary.  Even  so  the  Laird  of  EUangowan  ruthlessly 
commenced  his  magisterial  reform,  at  the  expense  of  various 
established  and  superannuated  pickers  and  stealers,  who 
had  been  his  neighbours  for  half  a  century.  He  wrought  his 
miracles  like  a  second  Duke  Humphrey ;  and  by  the  influence 
of  the  beadle's  rod,  caused  the  lame  to  walk,  the  blind  to  see, 
and  the  palsied  to  labour.  He  detected  poachers,  black- 
fishers,  orchard-breakers,  and  pigeon-shooters:  had  the  ap- 
plause of  the  bench  for  his  reward,  and  the  public  credit  of 
an  active  magistrate. 

All  this  good  had  its  rateable  proportion  of  evil.  Even 
an  admitted  nuisance,  of  ancient  standing,  should  not  be 
abated  without  some  caution.  The  zeal  of  our  worthy  friend 
now  involved  in  great  distress  sundry  personages  whose  idle 
and  mendicant  habits  his  own  Idchesse  had  contributed  to 
foster  until  these  habits  had  become  irreclaimable,  or  whose 
real  incapacity  for  exertion  rendered  them  fit  objects,  in 
their  own  phrase,  for  the  charity  of  all  well-disposed  Chris- 
tians. The  'long-remembered  beggar,'  who  for  twenty  years 
had  made  his  regular  rounds  within  the  neighbourhood,  re- 
ceived rather  as  an  humble  friend  than  as  an  object  of  char- 
ity, was  sent  to  the  neighbouring  workhouse.  The  decrepit 
dame,  who  travelled  round  the  parish  upon  a  hand-barrow, 
circulating  from  house  to  house  like  a  bad  shilling,  which 
every  one  is  in  haste  to  pass  to  his  neighbour. — she  who  used 
to  call  for  her  bearers  as  loud,  or  louder,  than  a  traveller 
demands  post-horses, — even  she  shared  the  same  disastrous 


66  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

fate.  The  'daft  Jock.'  who,  half  knave,  half  idiot,  had  been 
the  sport  of  each  succeeding  race  of  village  children  for  a 
good  part  of  a  century,  was  remitted  to  the  county  bridewell, 
where,  secluded  from  free  air  and  sunshine,  the  only  advan- 
tages he  was  capable  of  enjoying,  he  pined  and  died  in  the 
course  of  six  months.  The  old  sailor,  who  had  so  long  re- 
joiced the  smoky  rafters  of  every  kitchen  in  the  country  by 
singing  Captain  Ward,  and  Bold  Admiral  Bcnhow,  was  ban- 
ished from  the  county  for  no  better  reason  than  that  he  was 
supposed  to  speak  with  a  strong  Irish  accent.  Even  the 
annual  rounds  of  the  pedlar  were  abolished  by  the  Justice  in 
his  hasty  zeal  for  the  administration  of  rural  police. 

These  things  did  not  pass  without  notice  and  censure.  We 
are  not  made  of  wood  or  stone,  and  the  things  which  connect 
themselves  with  our  hearts  and  habits  cannot,  like  bark  or 
lichen,  be  rent  away  without  our  missing  them.  The  farmer's 
dame  lacked  her  usual  share  of  intelligence. — perhaps  also 
the  self-applause,  which  she  had  felt  while  distributing  the 
awmoiis  (alms)  in  shape  of  a  gowpcn  (handful)  of  oatmeal 
to  the  mendicant  who  brought  the  news.  The  cottage  felt  in- 
convenience from  interruption  of  the  petty  trade  carried  on 
by  the  itinerant  dealers.  The  children  lacked  their  supply 
of  sugar-plums  and  toys;  the  young  women  wanted  pins, 
ribbons,  combs  and  ballads;  and  the  old  could  no  longer 
barter  their  eggs  for  salt,  snuff,  and  tobacco.  All  these  cir- 
cumstances brought  the  busy  Laird  of  Ellangowan  into  dis- 
credit, which  was  the  more  general  on  account  of  his  former 
popularity.  Even  his  lineage  was  brought  up  in  judgment 
against  him.  They  thought  'naething  of  what  the  like  of 
Greenside,  or  Burnville,  or  Viewforth,  might  do.  that  were 
strangers  in  the  country ;  but  Ellangowan  !  that  had  been  a 
name  amang  them  since  the  mirk  Monanday.  and  lang  before 
— him  to  be  grinding  the  puir  at  that  rate ! — They  ca'd  his 
grandfather  the  Wicked  Laird;  but  though  he  was  whiles 
fractious  aneuch,  when  he  got  into  roving  company  and  had 
ta'en  the  drap  drink,  he  would  have  scorned  to  gang  on  at 
this  gate.  Na.  na — the  muckle  chumlay  in  the  Auld  Place 
reeked  like  a  killogie  in  his  time,  and  there  were  as  mony 
puir  folk  riving  at  the  banes  in  the  court  and  about  the  door, 
as  there  were  gentles  in  the  ha'.     And  the  leddy,  on  ilka 


GUY    MANXERING  67 

Christmas  night  as  it  came  round,  gae  twelve  siller  pennies 
to  ilka  puir  body  about,  in  honour  of  the  twelve  apostles  like. 
They  were  fond  to  ca'  it  papistrie ;  but  I  think  our  great  folk 
might  take  a  lesson  frae  the  papists  whiles.  They  gie  an- 
other sort  o'  help  to  puir  folk  than  just  dinging  down  a 
saxpence  in  the  bi'od  on  the  Sabbath,  and  kilting,  and  scourg- 
ing, and  drumming  them  a'  the  sax  days  o'  the  week  besides.' 
Such  was  the  gossip  over  the  good  twopenny  in  every  ale- 
house within  three  or  four  miles  of  Ellangowan,  that  being 
about  the  diameter  of  the  orbit  in  which  our  friend  Godfrey 
Bertram,  Esq.,  J.P.,  must  be  considered  as  the  principal 
luminary.  Still  greater  scope  was  given  to  evil  tongues  by 
the  removal  of  a  colony  of  gipsies,  with  one  of  whom  our 
reader  is  somewhat  acquainted,  and  who  had  for  a  great 
many  years  enjoyed  their  chief  settlement  upon  the  estate  of 
Ellangowan. 


CHAPTER   VII 

Come,  princes  of  the  ragged  regiment, 
You  of  the  blood !  Prigg,  my  most  upright  lord, 
And  these,  what  name  or  title  e'er  they  bear, 
Jarkman,  or  Patrico,  Cranke  or  Clapper-dudgeon. 
Prater  or  Abravi-man — I  speak  of  all. — 

Beggar's  Bush. 

A  LTHOUGH  the  character  of  those  gipsy  tribes,  which 

l\  formerly  inundated  most  of  the  nations  of  Europe, 
•^ — *-  and  which  in  some  degree  still  subsist  among  them 
as  a  distinct  people,  is  generally  understood,  the  reader  will 
pardon  my  saying  a  few  words  respecting  their  situation  in 
Scotland. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  gipsies  were,  at  an  early  period, 
acknowledged  as  a  separate  and  independent  race  by  one  of 
the  Scottish  monarchs,  and  that  they  were  less  favourably 
distinguished  by  a  subsequent  law,  which  rendered  the  char- 
acter of  gipsy  equal,  in  the  judicial  balance,  to  that  of 
common  and  habitual  thief,  and  prescribed  his  punishment 
accordingly.  Notwithstanding  the  severity  of  this  and  other 
statutes,  the  fraternity  prospered  amid  the  distresses  of  the 
country,  and  received  large  accessions  from  among  those 
whom  famine,  oppression,  or  the  sword  of  war,  had  deprived 
of  the  ordinary  means  of  subsistence.  They  lost,  in  a  great 
measure  by  this  intermixture,  the  national  character  of  Egyp- 
tians, and  became  a  mingled  race,  having  all  the  idleness  and 
predatory  habits  of  their  Eastern  ancestors  with  a  ferocity 
which  they  probably  borrowed  from  the  men  of  the  north 
who  joined  their  society.  They  travelled  in  different  bands, 
and  had  rules  among  themselves  by  which  each  tribe  was  con- 
fined to  its  own  district.  The  slightest  invasion  of  the  pre- 
cincts which  had  been  assigned  to  another  tribe  produced 
desperate  skirmishes,  in  which  there  was  often  much  blood 
shed. 

The  patriotic  Fletcher  of  Saltoun  drew  a  picture  of  these 
banditti  about  a  century  ago,  which  my  readers  will  peruse 
with  astonishment : — 

68 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  69 

'There  are  at  this  day  in  Scotland  (besides  a  great  many 
poor  families  very  meanly  provided  for  by  the  church  boxes, 
with  others  who,  by  living  on  bad  food,  fall  into  various 
diseases)  two  hundred  thousand  people  begging  from  door  to 
door.  These  are  not  only  no  way  advantageous,  but  a  very 
grievous  burden  to  so  poor  a  country.  And  though  the 
number  of  them  be  perhaps  double  to  what  it  was  formerly, 
by  reason  of  this  present  great  distress,  yet  in  all  times  there 
have  been  about  one  hundred  thousand  of  those  vagabonds, 
who  have  lived  without  any  regard  or  subjection  either  to 
the  laws  of  the  land  or  e  en  those  of  God  and  nature ;  .  .  . 
No  magistrate  could  ever  discover,  or  be  informed,  which 
way  one  in  a  hundred  of  these  wretches  died,  or  that  ever 
they  were  baptized. — Many  murders  have  been  discovered 
among  them;  and  they  are  not  only  a  most  unspeakable  op- 
pression to  poor  tenants  (who,  if  they  give  not  bread  or 
some  kind  of  provision  to  perhaps  forty  such  villains  in  one 
day,  are  sure  to  be  insulted  by  them),  but  they  rob  many 
poor  people  who  live  in  houses  distant  from  any  neighbour- 
hood. In  years  of  plenty  many  thousands  of  them  meet  to- 
gether in  the  mountains,  where  they  feast  and  riot  for  many 
days;  and  at  country  weddings,  markets,  burials,  and  other 
the  like  public  occasions,  they  are  to  be  seen,  both  man  and 
woman,  perpetually  drunk,  cursing,  blaspheming,  and  fighting 
together.' 

Notwithstanding  the  deplorable  picture  presented  in  this 
extract,  and  which  Fletcher  himself,  though  the  energetic 
and  eloquent  friend  of  freedom,  saw  no  better  mode  of 
correcting  than  by  introducing  a  system  of  domestic  slavery, 
the  progress  of  time,  and  increase  both  of  the  means  of  life 
and  of  the  power  of  the  laws,  gradually  reduced  this  dreadful 
evil  within  more  narrow  bounds.  The  tribes  of  gipsies, 
jockeys,  or  cairds, — for  by  all  these  denominations  such 
banditti  were  known, — became  few  in  number,  and  many 
were  entirely  rooted  out.  Still,  however,  a  sufficient  number 
remained  to  give  occasional  alarm  and  constant  vexation. 
Some  rude  handicrafts  were  entirely  resigned  to  these  itin- 
erants, particularly  the  art  of  trencher-making,  of  manufac- 
turing horn-si)oons.  and  the  whole  mystery  of  the  tinker. 
To  these  they  added  a  petty  trade  in  the  coarse  sorts  of  earth- 


70  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

enware.  Such  were  their  ostensible  means  of  livelihood. 
Each  tribe  had  usually  some  fixed  place  of  rendezvous,  which 
they  occasionally  occupied  and  considered  as  their  standing 
camp,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  which  they  generally  abstained 
from  depredation.  They  had  even  talents  and  accomplish- 
ments, which  made  them  occasionally  useful  and  entertaining. 
Many  cultivated  music  with  success ;  and  the  favourite  fiddler 
or  piper  of  a  district  was  often  to  be  found  in  a  gipsy  town. 
They  understood  all  out-of-door  sports,  especially  otter-hunt- 
ing, fishing,  or  finding  game.  They  bred  the  best  and  boldest 
terriers,  and  sometimes  had  good  pointers  for  sale.  In 
winter,  the  women  told  fortunes,  the  men  showed  tricks  of 
legerdemain ;  and  these  accomplishments  often  helped  to 
while  away  a  weary  or  stormy  evening  in  the  circle  of  the 
'farmer's  ha.'  The  wildness  of  their  character,  and  the  in- 
domitable pride  with  which  they  despised  all  regular  labour, 
commanded  a  certain  awe,  which  was  not  diminished  by  the 
consideration  that  these  strollers  were  a  vindictive  race,  and 
were  restrained  by  no  check,  either  of  fear  or  conscience, 
from  taking  desperate  vengeance  upon  those  who  had  of- 
fended them.  These  tribes  were,  in  short,  the  Pariahs  of 
Scotland,  living  like  wild  Indians  among  the  European  set- 
tlers, and,  like  them,  judged  of  rather  by  their  own  customs, 
habits,  and  opinions,  than  as  if  they  had  been  members  of  the 
civilized  part  of  the  community.  Some  hordes  of  them  yet 
remain,  chiefly  in  such  situations  as  afford  a  ready  escape 
either  into  a  waste  country,  or  into  another  jurisdiction.  Nor 
are  the  features  of  their  character  much  softened.  Their 
numbers,  however,  are  so  greatly  diminished,  that,  instead  of 
one  hundred  thousand,  as  calculated  by  Fletcher,  it  would 
now  perhaps  be  impossible  to  collect  above  five  hundred 
throughout  all  Scotland. 

A  tribe  of  these  itinerants,  to  whom  Meg  Merrilies  apper- 
tained, had  long  been  as  stationary  as  their  habits  permitted 
in  a  glen  upon  the  estate  of  EUangowan.  They  had  there 
erected  a  few  huts,  which  they  denominated  their  'city  of 
refuge,'  and  when  not  absent  on  excursions,  they  harboured 
unmolested,  as  the  crows  that  roosted  in  the  old  ash-trees 
around  them.  They  had  been  such  long  occupants,  that  they 
were    considered    in    some    degree    as    proprietors    of    the 


GUY    :MAXNERING  71 

wretched  shealings  whicli  they  inhabited.  This  protection 
they  were  said  anciently  to  have  repaid,  by  service  to  the 
laird  in  war,  or,  more  frequently,  by  infesting  or  plundering 
the  lands  of  those  neighbouring  barons  with  whom  he 
chanced  to  be  at  feud.  Latterly  their  services  were  of  a 
more  pacific  nature.  The  women  spun  mittens  for  the  lady 
and  knitted  boot-hose  for  the  laird,  which  were  annually 
presented  at  Christmas  with  great  form.  The  aged  sibyls 
blessed  the  bridal  bed  of  the  laird  when  he  married,  and  the 
cradle  of  the  heir  when  born.  The  men  repaired  her  lady- 
ship's cracked  china,  and  assisted  the  laird  in  his  sporting 
parties,  wormed  his  dogi.  and  cut  the  ears  of  his  terrier 
puppies.  The  children  gathered  nuts  in  the  woods,  and  cran- 
berries in  the  moss,  and  mushrooms  on  the  pastures,  for 
tribute  to  the  Place.  These  acts  of  voluntary  service  and 
acknowledgements  of  dependence,  were  rewarded  by  protec- 
tion on  some  occasions,  connivance  on  others,  and  broken 
victuals,  ale  and  brandy,  when  circumstances  called  for  a 
display  of  generosity ;  and  this  mutual  intercourse  of  good 
offices,  which  had  been  carried  on  for  at  least  two  centuries, 
rendered  the  inhabitants  of  Derncleugh  a  kind  of  priviliged 
retainers  upon  the  estate  of  Ellangowan.  'The  knaves'  were 
the  Laird's  'exceeding  good  friends ;'  and  he  would  have 
deemed  himself  very  ill-used,  if  his  countenance  could  not 
now  and  then  have  borne  them  out  against  the  law  of  the 
country  and  the  local  magistrate.  But  this  friendly  union 
was  soon  to  be  dissolved. 

The  community  of  Derncleugh,  who  cared  for  no  rogues 
but  their  own,  were  wholly  without  alarm  at  the  severity  of 
the  justice's  proceedings  towards  other  itinerants.  They 
had  no  doubt  that  he  determined  to  suffer  no  mendicants  or 
strollers  in  the  country  but  what  resided  on  his  own  property, 
and  practised  their  trade  by  his  immediate  permission,  im- 
plied or  expressed.  Nor  was  Mr.  Bertram  in  a  hurry  to 
exert  his  newly-acquired  authority  at  the  expense  of  these 
old  settlers.     But  he  was  driven  on  by  circumstances. 

At  the  quarter-sessions,  our  new  justice  was  publicly  up- 
braided by  a  gentleman  of  the  opposite  party  in  county 
nolitics,  that,  while  he  affected  a  great  zeal  for  the  public 
police  and  seemed  ambitious  of  the  fame  of  an  active  magis- 


72  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

trate,  he  fostered  a  tribe  of  the  greatest  rogues  in  the  country, 
and  permitted  them  to  harbour  within  a  mile  of  the  house  of 
Ellangowan.  To  this  there  was  no  reply,  for  the  fact  was 
too  evident  and  well  known.  The  Laird  digested  the  taunt 
as  he  best  could,  and  in  his  way  home  amused  himself  with 
speculations  on  the  easiest  method  of  ridding  himself  of 
these  vagrants  who  brought  a  stain  upon  his  fair  fame  as  a 
magistrate.  Just  as  he  had  resolved  to  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  quarrelling  with  the  Pariahs  of  Derncleugh,  a 
cause  of  provocation  presented  itself. 

Since  our  friend's  advancement  to  be  a  conservator  of  the 
peace,  he  had  caused  the  gate  at  the  head  of  his  avenue, 
which  formerly,  having  only  one  hinge,  remained  at  all  times 
hospitably  open — he  had  caused  this  gate,  I  say,  to  be  newly 
hung  and  handsomely  painted.  He  had  also  shut  up  with 
palings,  curiously  twisted  with  furze,  certain  holes  in  the 
fences  adjoining,  through  which  the  gipsy  bays  used  to 
scramble  into  the  plantations  to  gather  birds'  nests,  the 
seniors  of  the  village  to  make  a  short  cut  from  one  point  to 
another,  and  the  lads  and  lasses  for  evening  rendezvous, — 
all  without  offence  taken  or  leave  asked.  But  these  halcyon 
days  were  now  to  have  an  end,  and  a  minatory  inscription 
on  one  side  of  the  gate  intimated  'prosecution  according  to 
law'  (the  painter  had  spelt  it  persecution — I'un  vaut  bien 
I'autre)  to  all  who  should  be  found  trespassing  on  these  en- 
closures. On  the  other  side,  for  uniformity's  sake,  was  a 
precautionary  annunciation  of  spring-guns  and  man-traps  of 
such  formidable  power,  that,  said  the  rubric,  with  an  emphatic 
nota  bene — 'if  a  man  goes  in,  they  will  break  a  horse's  leg.' 

In  defiance  of  these  threats,  six  well-grown  gipsy  boys  and 
girls  were  riding  cock-horse  upon  the  new  gate,  and  plaiting 
May-flowers,  which  it  was  but  too  evident  had  been  gathered 
within  the  forbidden  precincts.  With  as  much  anger  as  he 
was  capable  of  feeling,  or  perhaps  of  assuming,  the  Laird 
commanded  them  to  descend; — they  paid  no  attention  to  his 
mandate :  he  then  began  to  pull  them  down  one  after  another ; 
they  resisted,  passively  at  least,  each  sturdy  bronzed  varlet 
making  himself  as  heavy  as  he  could,  or  climbing  up  as  fast 
as  he  was  dismounted. 

The  Laird  then  called  in  the  assistance  of  his  servant,  a 


GUY    MANNERIXG  73 

surly  fellow,  who  had  immediate  recourse  to  his  horse-whip. 
A  few  lashes  sent  the  party  a-scampering;  and  thus  com- 
menced the  first  breach  of  the  peace  between  the  house  of 
Ellangowan  and  the  gipsies  of  Derncleugh. 

The  latter  could  not  for  some  time  imagine  that  the  war 
was  real ; — until  they  found  that  their  children  were  horse- 
whipped by  the  grieve  when  found  trespassing;  and  their 
asses  were  poinded  by  the  ground-officer  when  left  in  the 
plantations  or  even  when  turned  to  graze  by  the  road-side, 
against  the  provision  of  the  turnpike  acts;  that  the  constable 
began  to  make  curious  inquiries  into  their  mode  of  gaining  a 
livelihood,  and  expressea  his  surprise  that  the  men  should 
sleep  in  the  hovels  all  day,  and  be  abroad  the  greater  part 
of  the  night. 

When  matters  came  to  this  point,  the  gipsies,  without 
scruple,  entered  upon  measures  of  retaliation.  Ellangowan's 
hen-roosts  were  plundered,  his  linen  stolen  from  the  lines  or 
bleaching-ground,  his  fishings  poached,  his  dogs  kidnapped, 
his  growing  trees  cut  or  barked.  Much  petty  mischief  was 
done  and  some  evidently  for  the  mischief's  sake.  On  the 
other  hand,  warrants  went  forth,  without  mercy,  to  pursue, 
search  for,  take,  and  apprehend;  and,  notwithstanding  their 
dexterity,  one  or  two  of  the  depredators  were  unable  to 
avoid  conviction.  One,  a  stout  young  fellow,  who  sometimes 
had  gone  to  sea  a-fishing,  was  handed  over  to  the  captain 

of  the  impress  service  at  D ;  two  children  were  soundly 

flogged,  and  one  Egyptian  matron  sent  to  the  house  of 
correction. 

Still,  however,  the  gipsies  made  no  motion  to  leave  the  spot 
which  they  had  so  long  inhabited,  and  Mr.  Bertram  felt  an 
unwillingness  to  deprive  them  of  their  ancient  'city  of 
refuge;'  so  that  the  petty  warfare  we  have  noticed  continued 
for  several  months,  without  increase  or  abatement  of  hos- 
tilities on  either  side. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

So  the  red  Indian,  by  Ontario's  side, 

Nursed   hardy   on  the  brindled  panther's  hide, 

As  fades  his  swarthy  race,  with  anguish  sees 

The  white  man's  cottage  rise  beneath  the  trees : 

He  leaves  the  shelter  of  his  native  wood, 

He  leaves  the  murmur  of  Ohio's  flood, 

And   forward   rushing  in   indignant  grief, 

Where  never  foot  has  trod  the  fallen  leaf. 

He  bends  his  course  where  twilight  reigns  sublime. 

O'er  forests  silent  since  the  birth  of  time. 

Scenes  of  Infancy. 

IN  tracing  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Scottish  Maroon 
war,  we  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  years  had  rolled 
on.  and  that  little  Harry  Bertram,  one  of  the  hardiest 
and  most  lively  children  that  ever  made  a  sword  and  grena- 
dier's cap  of  rushes,  now  approached  his  fifth  revolving 
birthday.  A  hardihood  of  disposition  which  early  developed 
itself,  made  him  already  a  little  wanderer;  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  every  patch  of  lea  ground  and  dingle  around 
Ellangowan  and  could  tell  in  his  broken  language  upon 
what  baulks  grew  the  bonniest  flowers,  and  what  copse 
had  the  ripest  nuts.  He  repeatedly  terrified  his  attendants 
by  clambering  about  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle,  and  had 
more  than  once  made  a  stolen  excursion  as  far  as  the  gipsy 
hamlet. 

On  these  occasions  he  was  generally  brought  back  by  Meg 
^lerrilies,  who,  though  she  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to 
enter  the  Place  of  Ellangowan  after  her  nephew  had  been 
given  up  to  the  pressgang,  did  not  apparently  extend  her 
resentment  to  the  child.  On  the  contrary,  she  often  contrived 
to  waylay  him  in  his  walks,  sing  him  a  gipsy  song,  give  him 
a  ride  upon  her  jackass,  and  thrust  into  his  pocket  a  piece 
of  gingerbread  or  a  red-cheeked  apple.  This  woman's  ancient 
attachment  to  the  family,  repelled  and  checked  in  every  other 
direction,  seemed  to  rejoice  in  having  some  object  on  which 
it  could  yet  repose  and  expand  itself.     She  prophesied  a 

74 


GUY    MANNERIXG  75 

hundred  times,  "that  young  Mr.  Harry  would  be  the  pride  o' 
the  family,  and  there  hadna  been  sic  a  sprout  frae  the  auld 
aik  since  the  death  of  Arthur  Mac-Ding-awaie  that  was  killed 
in  the  battle  o'  the  Bloody  Bay ;  as  for  the  present  stick,  it 
was  good  for  naething  but  firewood.'  On  one  occasion,  when 
the  child  was  ill,  she  lay  all  night  below  the  window,  chanting 
a  rhyme  which  she  believed  sovereign  as  a  febrifuge,  and 
could  neither  be  prevailed  upon  to  enter  the  house,  nor  to 
leave  the  station  she  had  chosen,  till  she  was  informed  that 
the  crisis  was  over. 

The  affection  of  this  woman  became  matter  of  suspicion. 
not  indeed  to  the  Laird,  who  was  never  hasty  in  suspecting 
evil,  but  to  his  wife,  who  had  indifferent  health  and  poor 
spirits.  She  was  now  far  advanced  in  a  second  pregnancy, 
and,  as  she  could  not  walk  abroad  herself,  and  the  woman 
who  attended  upon  Harry  was  young  and  thoughtless,  she 
prayed  Dominie  Sampson  to  undertake  the  task  of  watching 
the  boy  in  his  rambles,  when  he  should  not  be  otherwise 
accompanied.  The  Dominie  loved  his  young  charge,  and  was 
enraptured  with  his  own  success,  in  having  already  brought 
him  so  far  in  his  learning  as  to  spell  words  of  three  syllables. 
The  idea  of  this  early  prodigy  of  erudition  being  carried  off 
by  the  gipsies,  like  a  second  Adam  Smith,^  was  not  to  be 
tolerated ;  and  accordingly,  though  the  charge  was  contrary 
to  all  his  habits  of  life,  he  readily  undertook  it,  and  might  be 
seen  stalking  about  with  a  mathematical  problem  in  his  head, 
and  his  eye  upon  a  child  of  five  years  old.  whose  rambles  led 
liim  into  a  hundred  awkward  situations.  Twice  was  (he 
Dominie  chased  by  a  cross-grained  cow,  once  he  fell  into  the 
brook  crossing  at  the  stepping-stones,  and  another  time  was 
bogged  up  to  the  middle  in  the  slough  T^ochend,  in  attempting 
to  gather  a  water-lily  for  the  young  Laird.  It  was  the  opin- 
ion of  the  village  matrons  who  relieved  Sampson  upon  the 
latter  occasion,  "that  the  Laird  might  as  weel  trust  the  care 
o'  his  bairn  to  a  potato  bogle;'  but  the  good  Dominie  bore  all 
his  disasters  with  gravity  and  serenity  equally  imperturbable. 
'Pro-di-gi-ous  !'  was  the  only  ejaculation  they  ever  extorted 
from  the  much-enduring  man. 

^  The  father  of  economical  philosophy  was,  when  a  child,  actually  caxried 
off  by  gipsies,  and  remained  some  hours  in  their  possession. 

D— 4 


76  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

The  Laird  had  by  this  time  determined  to  make  root-and- 
branch  work  with  the  Maroons  of  Derncleugh.  The  old 
servants  shook  their  heads  at  his  proposal,  and  even  Dominie 
Sampson  ventured  upon  an  indirect  remonstrance.  As,  how- 
ever, it  was  couched  in  the  oracular  phrase,  'Ne  moveas 
Camerinam;  neither  the  allusion  nor  the  language  in  which 
it  was  expressed,  were  calculated  for  Mr.  Bertram's  edifica- 
tion, and  matters  proceeded  against  the  gipsies  in  form  of 
law.  Every  door  in  the  hamlet  was  chalked  by  the  ground- 
officer,  in  token  of  a  formal  warning  to  remove  at  next  term. 
Still,  however,  they  showed  no  symptoms  either  of  submission 
or  of  compliance.  At  length  the  term-day,  the  fatal  Martin- 
mas, arrived,  and  violent  measures  of  ejection  were  resorted 
to.  A  strong  posse  of  peace-officers,  sufficient  to  render  all 
resistance  vain,  charged  the  inhabitants  to  depart  by  noon ; 
and,  as  they  did  not  obey,  the  officers,  in  terms  of  their  war- 
rant, proceeded  to  unroof  the  cottages,  and  pull  down  the 
wretched  doors  and  windows, — a  summary  and  effectual 
mode  of  ejection,  still  practised  in  some  remote  parts  of 
Scotland,  when  a  tenant  proves  refractory.  The  gipsies,  for 
a  time,  beheld  the  work  of  destruction  in  sullen  silence  and 
inactivity ;  then  set  about  saddling  and  loading  their  asses. 
and  making  preparations  for  their  departure.  These  were 
soon  accomplished,  where  all  had  the  habits  of  wandering 
Tartars;  and  they  set  forth  on  their  journey  to  seek  new 
settlements,  where  their  patrons  should  neither  be  of  the 
quorum,  nor  custos  rotulorum. 

Certain  qualms  of  feeling  had  deterred  Ellangowan  from 
attending  in  person  to  see  his  tenants  expelled.  He  left 
the  executive  part  of  the  business  to  the  officers  of  the  law, 
under  the  immediate  direction  of  Frank  Kennedy,  a  super- 
visor, or  riding-officer,  belonging  to  the  excise,  who  had  of 
late  become  intimate  at  the  Place,  and  of  whom  we  shall 
have  more  to  say  in  the  next  chapter.  Mr.  Bertram  himself 
chose  that  day  to  make  a  visit  to  a  friend  at  some  distance. 
But  it  so  happened,  notwithstanding  his  precautions,  that  he 
could  not  avoid  meeting  his  late  tenants  during  their  retreat 
from  his  property. 

It  was  in  a  hollow  way,  near  the  top  of  a  steep  ascent, 
upon  the  verge  of  the  Ellangowan  estate,  that  Mr.  Bertram 


GUY    MANNERTXG  77 

met  the  gipsy  procession.  Four  or  five  men  formed  the 
advanced  guard,  wrapped  in  long  loose  great-coats  that  hid 
their  tall  slender  figures,  as  the  large  slouched  hats,  drawn 
over  their  brows,  concealed  their  wild  features,  dark  eyes, 
and  swarthy  faces.  Two  of  them  carried  long  fowling-pieces, 
one  wore  a  broadsword  without  a  sheath,  and  all  had  the 
Highland  dirk,  though  they  did  not  wear  that  weapen  openly 
or  ostentatiously.  Behind  them  followed  the  train  of  laden 
asses,  and  small  carts,  or  tumblers  as  they  were  called  in  that 
country,  on  which  were  laid  the  decrepit  and  the  helpless,  the 
aged  and  infant  part  of  the  exiled  community.  The  women 
in  their  red  cloaks  and  straw  hats,  the  elder  children  with 
bare  heads  and  bare  fee :,  and  almost  naked  bodies,  had  the 
immediate  care  of  the  little  caravan.  The  road  was  narrow, 
running  between  two  broken  banks  of  sand,  and  Mr.  Ber- 
tram's servant  rode  forward,  smacking  his  whip  with  an  air 
of  authority,  and  motioning  to  the  drivers  to  allow  free  pas- 
sage to  their  betters.  His  signal  was  unattended  to.  He  then 
called  to  the  men  who  lounged  idly  on  before,  'Stand  to  your 
beasts'  heads,  and  make  room  for  the  Laird  to  pass.' 

'He  shall  have  his  share  of  the  road,'  answered  a  male 
gipsy  from  under  his  slouched  and  large  brimmed  hat,  and 
without  raising  his  face,  'and  he  shall  have  nae  mair;  the 
highway  is  as  free  to  our  cuddies  as  to  his  gelding.' 

The  tone  of  the  man  being  sulky,  and  even  menacing, 
Mr.  Bertram  thought  it  best  to  put  his  dignity  in  his  pocket, 
and  pass  by  the  procession  quietly,  on  such  space  as  they  chose 
to  leave  for  his  accommodation,  which  was  narrow  enough. 
To  cover  with  an  appearance  of  indifference  his  feeling  of 
the  want  of  respect  with  which  he  was  treated,  he  addressed 
one  of  the  men.  as  he  passed  without  any  show  of  greeting, 
salute,  or  recognition, — "Giles  Baillie,'  he  said,  'have  you 
heard  that  your  son  Gabriel  is  well?'  (The  question 
respected  the  young  man  who  had  been  pressed.) 

'If  I  had  heard  otherwise,'  said  the  old  man.  looking  up 
with  a  stern  and  menacing  countenance,  'you  should  have 
heard  of  it  too.'  And  he  plodded  on  his  way,  tarrying  no 
further  questions."  When  the  Laird  had  pressed  on  with 
difiiculty  among  a  crowd  of  familiar  faces,  which  had  on 
This  anecdote  is  a  literal  fact. 


78  STR    WALTER    SCOTT 

all  former  occasions  marked  his  approach  with  the  reverence 
due  to  that  of  a  superior  being,  but  in  which  he  now  only 
read  hatred  and  contempt,  and  had  got  clear  of  the  throng, 
he  could  not  help  turning  his  horse,  and  looking  back  to 
mark  the  progress  of  their  march.  The  group  would  have 
been  an  excellent  subject  for  the  pencil  of  Calotte.  The 
van  had  already  reached  a  small  and  stunted  thicket,  which 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  which  gradually  hid  the 
line  of  march  until  the  last  stragglers  disappeared. 

His  sensations  were  bitter  enough.  The  race,  it  is  true, 
which  he  had  thus  summarily  dismissed  from  their  ancient 
place  of  refuge,  was  idle  and  vicious ;  but  had  he  endea- 
voured to  render  them  otherwise?  They  were  not  more 
irregular  characters  now,  than  they  had  been  while  they 
were  admitted  to  consider  themselves  as  a  sort  of  subordi- 
nate dependants  of  his  family ;  and  ought  the  mere  circum- 
stance of  his  becoming  a  magistrate  to  have  made  at  once 
such  a  change  in  his  conduct  towards  them?  Some  means 
of  reformation  ought  at  least  to  have  been  tried,  before 
sending  seven  families  at  once  upon  the  wide  world,  and 
'depriving  them  of  a  degree  of  countenance  which  withheld 
them  at  least  from  atrocious  guilt.  There  was  also  a  natural, 
yearning  of  heart  on  parting  with  so  many  known  and 
familiar  faces;  and  to  this  feeling  Godfrey  Bertram  was 
peculiarly  accessible,  from  the  limited  qualities  of  his  mind, 
which  sought  its  principal  amusements  among  the  petty 
objects  around  him.  As  he  was  about  to  turn  his  horse's 
head  to  pursue  his  journey,  Meg  Merrilies,  who  had  lagged 
behind  the  troop,  unexpectedly  presented  herself. 

.She  was  standing  upon  one  of  those  high  precipitous 
banks,  which,  as  we  before  noticed,  overhung  the  road; 
so  that  she  was  placed  considerably  higher  than  Ellangowan, 
even  though  he  was  on  horseback ;  and  her  tall  figure, 
relieved  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  seemed  almost  of  super- 
natural stature.  We  have  noticed  that  there  was  in  her 
general  attire,  or  rather  in  her  mode  of  adjusting  it,  some- 
what of  a  foreign  costume,  artfully  adopted  perhaps  for 
the  purpose  of  adding  to  the  effect  of  her  spells  and  pre- 
dictions, or  perhaps  from  some  traditional  notions  respect- 
ing the  dress  of  her  ancestors.     On  this  occasion,  she  had 


GUY    MANXERING  79 

a  large  piece  of  red  cotton  cloth  rolled  about  her  head  in 
the  form  of  a  turban,  from  beneath  which  her  dark  eyes 
flashed  with  uncommon  lustre.  Her  long  and  tangled 
black  hair  fell  in  elf-locks  from  the  folds  of  this  singular 
head-gear.  Her  attitude  was  that  of  a  sibyl  in  frenzy,  and 
she  stretched  out  in  her  right  hand  a  sapling  bough,  which 
seemed  just  pulled. 

■ril   be    d d,'    said    the    groom,    "if    she    has    not    been 

cutting  the  young  ashes  in  the  Dukit  park !' — The  Laird 
made  no  answer,  but  continued  to  look  at  the  figure  which 
was  thus  perched  above  his  path. 

'Ride  your  ways,'  said  the  gipsy,  'ride  your  ways,  Laird 
of  Ellangowan — ride  yoar  ways,  Godfrey  Bertram  ! — This 
day  have  ye  quenched  seven  smoking  hearths — see  if  the 
fire  in  your  ain  parlour  burn  the  blither  for  that.  Ye  have 
riven  the  thack  off  seven  cottar  houses — look  if  your  ain 
roof-tree  stand  the  faster. — Ye  may  stable  your  stirks  in 
the  shealings  at  Derncleugh — see  that  the  hare  does  not 
couch  on  the  hearthstane  at  Ellangowan. — Ride  your  ways, 
Godfrey  Bertram — what  do  ye  glower  after  our  folk  for? — 
There's  thirty  hearts  there,  that  wad  hae  wanted  bread 
ere  ye  had  wanted  sunkets,'  and  spent  their  life-blood  ere 
ye  had  scratched  your  finger.  Yes — there's  thirty  yonder, 
from  the  auld  wife  of  an  hundred  to  the  babe  that  was  born 
last  week,  that  ye  have  turned  out  o'  their  bits  o'biclds, 
to  sleep  with  the  tod  and  the  blackcock  in  the  muirs! — 
Ride  your  ways,  Ellangowan. — Our  bairns  are  hinging  at 
our  weary  backs — look  that  your  braw  cradle  at  hame  be 
the  fairer  spread  up :  not  that  I'm  wishing  ill  to  little 
Harry,  or  to  the  babe  that's  yet  to  be  born — God  forbid — 
and  make  them  kind  to  the  poor,  and  better  folk  than  their 
father  ! — And  now,  ride  e'en  your  ways ;  for  these  are  the 
last  words  ye'll  ever  hear  Meg  Merrilies  speak,  and  this  is 
the  last  reise  that  I'll  ever  cut  in  the  bonny  woods  of 
Ellangowan.' 

So  saying,  she  broke  the  sapling  she  held  in  her  hand, 
and  flung  it  into  the  road.  Margaret  of  Anjou,  bestowing 
on  her  triumphant  foes  her  keen-edged  malediction,  could 
not  have  turned  from  them  with  a  gesture  more  proudly 

'  Delicacies. 


80  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

contemptuous.  The  Laird  was  clearing  his  voice  to  speak, 
and  thrusting  his  hand  in  his  pocket  to  find  a  half-crown ; 
the  gipsy  waited  neither  for  his  reply  nor  his  donation, 
but  strode  down  the  hill  to  overtake  the  caravan. 

Ellangowan  rode  pensively  home ;  and  it  was  remarkable 
that  he  did  not  mention  this  interview  to  any  of  his  family. 
The  groom  was  not  so  reserved :  he  told  the  story  at  great 
length  to  a  full  audience  in  the  kitchen,  and  concluded  by 
swearing,  that  'if  ever  the  devil  spoke  by  the  mouth  of 
a  woman,  he  had  spoken  by  that  of  Meg  Merrilies  that 
blessed  day.' 


CHAPTER  IX 

Paint  Scotland  greeting  ower  her  thrissle, 
Her   mutchkin   stoup   as  toom's  a  whistle, 
And  d — n'd  excisemen  in  a  bustle, 

Seizing  a  stell ; 
Triumphant  crushin't  like  a  mussell, 

Or  lampit  shell. 

Burns. 

DURING  the  per  od  .of  Mr.  Bertram's  active  magis- 
tracy, he  did  not  forget  the  affairs  of  the  revenue. 
Smuggling,  for  which  the  Isle  of  Man  then  afforded 
peculiar  facilities,  v^^as  general  or  rather  universal,  all  along 
the  south-western  coast  of  Scotland.  Almost  all  the  com- 
mon people  were  engaged  in  these  practices;  the  gentry 
connived  at  them,  and  the  officers  of  the  revenue  were  fre- 
quently discountenanced  in  the  exercise  of  their  duty  by 
those  who  should  have  protected  them. 

There  was  at  this  period,  employed  as  a  riding  officer  or 
supervisor  in  that  part  of  the  country,  a  certain  Francis 
Kennedy,  already  named  in  our  narrative;  a  stout,  resolute, 
and  active  man,  who  had  made  seizures  to  a  great  amount, 
and  was  proportionally  hated  by  those  who  had  an  interest 
in  the  fair  trade,  as  they  called  the  pursuit  of  these  contra- 
band adventurers.  This  person  was  natural  son  to  a  gentle- 
man of  good  family,  owing  to  which  circumstance,  and  to 
his  being  of  a  jolly  convivial  disposition  and  singing  a  good 
song,  he  was  admitted  to  the  occasional  society  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  country,  and  was  a  member  of  several 
of  their  clubs  for  practising  athletic  games,  at  which  he 
was  particularly  expert. 

At  Ellangowan,  Kennedy  was  a  frequent  and  always  an 
acceptable  guest.  His  vivacity  relieved  Mr.  Bertram  of  the 
trouble  of  thought,  and  the  labour  which  it  cost  him  to 
support  a  detailed  communication  of  ideas;  while  the 
daring  and  dangerous  exploits  which  he  had  undertaken 
in  the  discharge  of  his  office,  formed  excellent  conversation. 

81 


63  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

To  all  these  revenue  adventures  did  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan 
seriously  incline,  and  the  amusement  which  he  derived 
from  Kennedy's  society  formed  an  excellent  reason  for 
countenancing  and  assisting  the  narrator  in  the  execution 
of  his  invidious  and  hazardous  duty, 

'Frank  Kennedy/  he  said,  'was  a  gentleman,  though  on 
the  wrang  side  of  the  blanket — he  was  connected  with  the 
family  of  Ellangowan  through  the  house  of  Glengubble. 
The  last  Laird  of  Glengubble  would  have  brought  the  estate 
into  the  Ellangowan  line ;  but  happening  to  go  to  Harrigate, 
he  there  met  with  Miss  Jean  Hadaway — by  the  by,  the 
Green  Dragon  at  Harrigate  is  the  best  house  of  the  twa; — 
but  for  Frank  Kennedy,  he's  in  one  sense  a  gentleman 
born,  and  it's  a  shame  not  to  support  him  against  these 
blackguard  smugglers/ 

After  this  league  had  taken  place  between  judgement 
and  execution,  it  chanced  that  Captain  Dirk  Hatteraick 
had  landed  a  cargo  of  spirits  and  other  contraband  goods, 
upon  the  beach  not  far  from  Ellangowan,  and,  confiding  in 
the  indifference  with  which  the  Laird  had  formerly  regarded 
similar  infractions  of  the  law,  he  was  neither  very  anxious 
to  conceal  nor  to  expedite  the  transaction.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  Mr.  Frank  Kennedy,  armed  with  a  warrant 
from  Ellangowan  and  supported  by  some  of  the  Laird's 
people  who  knew  the  country  and  by  a  party  of  military, 
poured  down  upon  the  kegs,  bales,  and  bags,  and  after 
a  desperate  affray,  in  which  severe  wounds  were  given  and 
received,  succeeded  in  clapping  the  broad  arrow  upon  the 
articles,  and  bearing  them  off  in  triumph  to  the  next 
custom-house. 

Dirk  Hatteraick  vowed,  in  Dutch,  German,  and  English,  a 
deep  and  full  revenge,  both  against  the  ganger  and  his  abet- 
tors; and  all  who  knew  him  thought  it  likely  he  would  keep 
his  word. 

A  few  days  after  the  departure  of  the  gipsy  tribe, 
Mr.  Bertram  asked  his  lady  one  morning  at  breakfast, 
whether  this  was  not  little  Harry's  birthday?' 

'Five  years  auld,  exactly,  this  blessed  day,'  answered 
the  lady;  'so  we  may  look  into  the  English  gentleman  s 
paper/ 


GUY    MANNERING  83 

Mr.  Bertram  liked  to  show  his  authority  in  trifles.  "No,, 
my  dear,  not  till  to-morrow.  The  last  time  I  was  at  quarter- 
sessions,  the  sheriff  told  us  that  dies — that  dies  inccptns — 
in  short — you  don't  understand  Latin — but  it  means  that 
a  term-day  is  not  begun  till  it  's  ended*' 

'That  sounds  like  nonsense,  my  dear.' 

'May  be  so,  my  dear;  but  it  may  be  very  good  law  for 
all  that.  I  am  sure,  speaking  of  term-days.  I  wish,  as  Frank 
Kennedy  says,  that  Whitsunday  would  kill  Martinmas,  and 
be  hanged  for  the  murder — for  there  I  have  got  a  letter 
about  that  interest  of  Jenny  Cairns's,  and  deil  a  tenant's 
been  at  the  Place  yet  wi'  a  boddle  of  rent, — nor  will  not  till 
Candlemas — but,  speaking  of  Frank  Kennedy,  I  dare  say 
he'll  be  here  the  day,  f'T  he  was  away  round  to  Wigton  to 
warn  a  king's  ship  that's  lying  in  the  bay  about  Dirk 
Hatteraick's  lugger  being  on  the  coast  again,  and  he'll  be 
back  this  day;  so  we'll  have  a  bottle  of  claret  and  drink 
little  Harry's  health.' 

'I  wish,'  replied  the  lady,  'Frank  Kennedy  would  let 
Dirk  Hatteraick  alane.  What  needs  he  make  himself  mair 
busy  than  other  folk?  Cannot  he  sing  his  sang,  and  take 
his  drink,  and  draw  his  salary,  like  Collector  Snail,  honest 
man,  that  never  fashes  onybody?  And  I  wonder  at  you, 
Laird,  for  meddling  and  making — Did  we  ever  want  to  send 
for  tea  or  brandy  frae  the  Borough-town,  when  Dirk  Hat- 
teraick used  to  come  quietly  into  the  bay?' 

'Mrs.  Bertram,  you  know  nothing  of  these  matters.  Do 
you  think  it  becomes  a  magistrate  to  let  his  own  house 
be  made  a  receptacle  for  smuggled  goods?  Frank  Kennedy- 
will  show  you  the  penalties  in  the  act,  and  ye  ken  yoursell 
they  used  to  put  their  run  goods  into  the  Auld  Place  of 
Ellangowan,  up  by  there.' 

'Oh,  dear,  Mr.  Bertram,  and  what  the  waur  were  the 
wa's  and  the  vault  o'  the  auld  castle  for  having  a  whin 
kegs  o'  brandy  in  them  at  an  orra  time?  I  am  sure  ye  were 
not  obliged  to  ken  onything  about  it; — and  what  the  waur 
was  the  King  that  the  lairds  here  got  a  soup  o'  drink,  and 
the  ladies  their  drap  o'  tea,  at  a  reasonable  rate? — it's 
a  shame  to  them  to  pit.  such  taxes  on  them ! — and  was  na 
I  much  the  better  of  these  Flanders  head  and  pinners,  that 


84  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Dirk  Hatteraick  sent  me  a'  the  way  from  Antwerp?  It 
will  be  lang  or  the  King  sends  me  onything,  or  Frank 
Kennedy  either. — And  then  ye  would  quarrel  with  these 
gipsies  too !  I  expect  every  day  to  hear  the  barnyard's 
in  a  low.' 

'I  tell  you  once  more,  my  dear,  you  don't  understand 
these  things — and  there's  Frank  Kennedy  coming  galloping 
up  the  avenue/ 

'Aweel,  aweel,  Ellangowan,'  said  the  lady,  raising  her 
voice  as  the  Laird  left  the  room.  'I  wish  ye  may  understand 
them  your  sell,  that's  a' !' 

From  this  nuptial  dialogue  the  Laird  joyfully  escaped 
to  meet  his  faithful  friend,  Mr.  Kennedy,  who  arrived  in 
high  spirits.  'For  the  love  of  life,  Ellangowan,'  he  said, 
'get  up  to  the  castle !  you'll  see  that  old  fox  Dirk  Hatter- 
aick, and  his  Majesty's  hounds  in  full  cry  after  him.'  So 
saying,  he  flung  his  horse's  bridle  to  a  boy,  and  ran  up  the 
ascent  to  the  old  castle,  followed  by  the  Laird,  and  indeed 
by  several  others  of  the  family,  alarmed  by  the  sound  of 
guns  from  the  sea,  now  distinctly  heard. 

On  gaining  that  part  of  the  ruins  which  commanded  the 
most  extensive  outlook,  they  saw  a  lugger,  with  all  her 
canvas  crowded,  standing  across  the  bay,  closely  pursued 
by  a  sloop  of  war  that  kept  firing  upon  the  chase  from  her 
bows,  which  the  lugger  returned  with  her  stern-chasers. 
'They're  but  at  long  bowls  yet,'   cried  Kennedy,   in  great 

exultation,    'but   they   will   be   closer   by   and   by. D — n 

him,  he's  starting  his  cargo !     I  see  the  good  Nantz  pitching 

overboard,  keg  after  keg  ! — that  's  a  d d  ungenteel  thing 

of  Mr.  Hatteraick,  as  I  shall  let  him  know  by  and  by. — Now, 
now  !  they've  got  the  wind  of  him ! — that  's  it,  that  's  it  !-^ 
Hark  to  him !  hark  to  him !  Now,  my  dogs !  now,  my 
dogs  ! — hark  to  Ranger,  hark  !' 

'I  think,'  said  the  old  gardener  to  one  of  the  maids,  'the 
gauger  "s  fie;'  by  which  word  the  common  people  express 
those  violent  spirits  which  they  think  a  presage  of  death. 

Meantime  the  chase  continued.  The  lugger,  being  piloted 
with  great  ability  and  using  every  nautical  shift  to  make 
her  escape,  had  now  reached,  and  was  about  to  double  the 
headland  which  formed  the  extreme  point  of  land  on  the 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  85 

left  side  of  the  bay,  when  a  ball  having  hit  the  yard  in  the 
slings,  the  mainsail  fell  upon  the  deck.  The  consequence 
of  this  accident  appeared  inevitable,  but  could  not  be  seen 
by  the  spectators;  for  the  vessel,  which  had  just  doubled 
the  headland,  lost  steerage  and  fell  out  of  their  sight  behind 
the  promontory.  The  sloop  of  war  crowded  all  sail  to 
pursue,  but  she  had  stood  too  close  upon  the  cape,  so  that 
they  were  obliged  to  wear  the  vessel  for  fear  of  going 
ashore,  and  to  make  a  large  tack  back  into  the  bay,  in  order 
to  recover  sea-room  enough  to  double  the  headland. 

'They'll   lose   her,   by   ! — cargo   and    lugger,   one   or 

both,'  said  Kennedy.  T  must  gallop  away  to  the  Point 
of  Warroch'  (this  was  the  headland  so  often  mentioned), 
'and  make  them  a  sign^.l  where  she  has  drifted  to  on  the 
other  side.  Good-bye  for  an  hour,  Ellangowan — get  out  the 
gallon  punch-bowl  and  plenty  of  lemons.  I'll  stand  for  the 
French  article  by  the  time  I  come  back,  and  we'll  drink 
the  young  Laird's  health  hi  a  bowl  that  would  swim  the 
Collector's  yawl.'  So  saying,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
galloped  off. 

About  a  mile  from  the  house,  and  upon  the  verge  of  the 
woods,  which,  as  we  have  said,  covered  a  promontory 
terminating  in  the  cape  called  the  Point  of  Warroch, 
Kennedy  met  young  Harry  Bertram,  attended  by  his  tutor, 
Dominie  Sampson.  He  had  often  promised  the  child  a  ride 
upon  his  galloway;  and,  from  singing,  dancing,  and  playing 
Punch  for  his  amusement,  was  a  particular  favourite.  He 
no  sooner  came  scampering  up  the  path,  than  the  boy 
loudly  claimed  his  promise ;  and  Kennedy,  who  saw  no 
risk  in  indulging  him,  and  wished  to  tease  the  Dominie  in 
whose  visage  he  read  a  remonstrance,  caught  up  Harry  from 
the  ground,  placed  him  before  him,  and  continued  his  route ; 

Sampson's    "Peradventure,    Master    Kennedy' being    lost 

in  the  clatter  of  his  horse's  feet.  The  pedagogue  hesitated 
a  moment  whether  he  should  go  after  them;  but  Kennedy 
being  a  person  in  full  confidence  of  the  family,  and  with 
whom  he  himself  had  no  delight  in  associating,  "being  that 
he  was  addicted  unto  profane  and  scurrilous  jests,'  he  con- 
tinued his  own  walk  at  his  own  pace,  till  he  reached  the 
Place  of  Ellangowan. 


86  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

The  spectators  from  the  ruined  walls  of  the  castle  were 
still  watching  the  sloop  of  war,  Avhich  at  length,  but  not 
without  the  loss  of  considerable  time,  recovered  sea-room 
enough  to  weather  the  Point  of  Warroch,  and  was  lost  to 
their  sight  behind  that  wooded  promontory.  Some  time 
afterwards  the  discharges  of  several  cannon  were  heard  at 
a  distance,  and,  after  an  interval,  a  still  louder  explosion  as 
of  a  vessel  blown  up,  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  rose  above  the 
trees,  and  mingled  with  the  blue  sky.  All  then  separated  on 
their  different  occasions,  auguring  variously  upon  the  fate 
of  the  smuggler,  but  the  majority  insisting  that  her  capture 
was  inevitable,  if  she  had  not  already  gone  to  the  bottom. 

"It  is  near  our  dinner-time,  my  dear,'  said  Mrs.  Bertram 
to  her  husband ;  'will  it  be  lang  before  Mr.  Kennedy  comes 
back?' 

'I  expect  him  every  moment,  my  dear,'  said  the  Laird; 
'perhaps  he  is  bringing  some  of  the  officers  of  the  sloop 
with  him.' 

'My  stars,  Mr.  Bertram !  why  did  not  ye  tell  me  this 
before,  that  we  might  have  had  the  large  round  table?  and 
then,  they're  a'  tired  o'  saut  meat,  and,  to  tell  you  the 
plain  truth,  a  rump  o'  beef  is  the  best  part  of  your  dinner — 
and  then  I  wad  have  put  on  another  gown,  and  ye  wadna 
have  been  the  waur  o'  a  clean  neckcloth  j^oursell — But  ye 
delight  in  surprising  and  hurrying  one — I  am  sure  I  am 
no  to  hand  out  for  ever  against  this  sort  of  going  on. — 
But  when  folk's  missed,  then  they  are  moaned.' 

'Pshaw  !  pshaw  I  deuce  take  the  beef,  and  the  gown,  and 
table,  and  the  neckcloth ! — we  shall  do  all  very  well. — 
Where's  the  Dominie.  John? — (to  a  ser-vant  who  was  busy 
about  the  table) — where 's  the  Dominie  and  little  Harry?' 

'Mr.  Sampson's  been  at  hame  these  twa  hours  and  mair, 
but  I  dinna  think  Mr,  Harry  came  hame  wi'  him.' 

'Not  come  hame  wi'  him?'  said  the  lady;  'desire  Mr. 
Sampson  to  step  this  way  directly.' 

'Mr.  Sampson,'  said  she,  upon  his  entrance,  'is  it  not 
the  most  extraordinary  thing  in  this  world  wide,  that  you, 
that  have  free  up-putting — bed,  board,  and  washing — and 
twelve  pounds  sterling  a  year  just  to  look  after  that  boy, 
should  let  him  out  of  your  sight  for  twa  or  three  hours?' 


GUY    MANNERING  87 

Sampson  made  a  bow  of  humble  acknowledgement  at 
each  pause  which  the  angry  lady  made  in  her  enumeration 
of  the  advantages  of  his  situation,  in  order  to  give  more 
weight  to  her  remonstrance,  and  then,  in  words  which  we 
will  not  do  him  the  injustice  to  imitate,  told  how  I\Ir. 
Francis  Kennedy  'had  assumed  spontaneously  the  charge  of 
Master  Harry,  in  despite  of  his  remonstrances  in  the 
contrary.' 

'I  am  very  little  obliged  to  Mr.  Francis  Kennedy  for  his 
pains,'  said  the  lady  peevishly.  'Suppose  he  lets  the  boy 
drop  from  his  horse  and  lames  him?  or  suppose  one  of  the 
cannons  comes  ashore  ?nd  kills  him? — or  suppose ' 

"Or  suppose,  my  dear,'  said  Ellangowan,  'what  is  much 
more  likely  than  anything  else,  that  they  have  gone  aboard 
the  sloop  or  the  prize,  and  are  to  come  round  the  Point 
with  the  tide?' 

'And  then  they  may  be  drowned,'  said  the  lady. 

'Verily,'  said  Sampson,  'I  thought  Mr.  Kennedy  had 
returned  an  hour  since — Of  a  surety,  I  deemed  I  heard  his 
horse's  feet.' 

'That,'  said  John,  with  a  broad  grin,  'was  Gizzel  chasing 
the  humble-cow*  out  of  the  close.' 

Sampson  coloured  up  to  the  eyes — not  at  the  implied 
taunt,  which  he  would  never  have  discovered,  or  resented 
if  he  had,  but  at  some  idea  which  crossed  his  own  mind. 
'I  have  been  in  an  error,'  he  said,  'of  a  surety  I  should 
have  tarried  for  the  babe.'  So  saying,  he  snatched  his  bone- 
headed  cane  and  hat,  and  hurried  away  towards  Warroch 
wood,  faster  than  he  was  ever  known  to  walk  before,  or 
after. 

The  Laird  lingered  some  time,  debating  the  point  with 
the  lady.  At  length  he  saw  the  sloop  of  war  again  make 
her  appearance;  but,  without  approaching  the  shore,  she 
stood  away  to  the  westward,  with  all  her  sails  set,  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  The  lady's  state  of  timorous  and  fretful 
apprehension  was  so  habitual,  that  her  fears  went  for 
nothing  with  her  lord  and  master ;  but  an  appearance  of 
disturbance  and  anxiety  among  the  servants  now  excited 
his  alarm,  especially  when  he  was  called  out  of  the  room, 

'  A  cow  without  horns. 


89  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

and  told  in  private  that  Mr,  Kennedy's  horse  had  come  to 
the  stable-door  alone,  with  the  saddle  turned  round  below 
its  belly  and  the  reins  of  the  bridle  broken;  and  that 
a  farmer  had  informed  them  in  passing,  that  there  was 
a  smuggling  lugger  burning  like  a  furnace  on  the  other 
side  of  the  point  of  Warroch,  and  that,  though  he  had 
come  through  the  wood,  he  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of 
Kennedy  or  the  young  Laird,  'only  there  was  Dominie 
Sampson,  gaun  rampauging  about,  like  mad,  seeking  for 
them.' 

All  was  now  bustle  at  Ellangowan,  The  Laird  and  his 
servants,  male  and  female,  hastened  to  the  wood  of  Warroch. 
The  tenants  and  cottagers  in  the  neighbourhood  lent  their 
assistance,  partly  out  of  zeal,  partly  from  curiosity.  Boats 
were  manned  to  search  the  sea-shore,  which,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Point,  rose  into  high  and  indented  rocks.  A 
vague  suspicion  was  entertained,  though  too  horrible  to  be 
expressed,  that  the  child  might  have  fallen  from  one  of 
these  cliffs. 

The  evening  had  begun  to  close  when  the  parties  entered 
the  wood,  and  dispersed  different  ways  in  quest  of  the  boy 
and  his  companion.  The  darkening  of  the  atmosphere  and 
the  hoarse  sighs  of  the  November  wind  through  the  naked 
trees,  the  rustling  of  the  withered  leaves  which  stewed  the 
glades,  the  repeated  halloos  of  the  different  parties,  which 
often  drew  them  together  in  expectation  of  meeting  the 
objects  of  their  search,  gave  a  cast  of  dismal  sublimity  to 
the  scene. 

At  length,  after  a  minute  and  fruitless  investigation 
through  the  wood,  the  searchers  began  to  draw  together 
into  one  body  and  to  compare  notes.  The  agony  of  the 
father  grew  beyond  concealment,  yet  it  scarcely  equalled 
the  anguish  of  the  tutor.  'Would  to  God  I  had  died  for 
him !'  the  affectionate  creature  repeated  in  tones  of  the 
deepest  distress.  Those  who  were  less  interested,  rushed 
into  a  tumultuary  discussion  of  chances  and  possibilities. 
Each  gave  his  opinion,  and  each  was  alternately  swayed 
by  that  of  the  others.  Some  thought  the  objects  of  their 
search  had  gone  aboard  the  sloop;  some,  that  they  had 
gone  to  a  village  at  three  miles  distance;  some  whispered 


GUY    MANNERIXG  89 

they  might  have  been  on  board  the  lugger,  a  few  planks 
and  beams  of  which  the  tide  now  drifted  ashore. 

At  this  instant,  a  shout  was  heard  from  the  beach,  so 
loud,  so  shrill,  so  piercing,  so  different  from  every  sound 
which  the  woods  that  day  had  rung  to,  that  nobody  hesi- 
tated a  moment  to  believe  that  it  conveyed  tidings,  and 
tidings  of  dreadful  import.  All  hurried  to  the  place,  and, 
venturing  without  scruple  upon  paths  which  at  another 
time  they  would  have  shuddered  to  look  at,  descended 
towards  a  cleft  of  the  rock,  where  one  boat's  crew  was 
already  landed.  'Here,  sirs '.—here !— this  way,  for  God's 
sake! — this  way!  this  way!'  was  the  reiterated  cry. — 
Ellangowan  broke  through  the  throng  which  had  already 
assembled  at  the  fatal  spot,  and  beheld  the  object  of  their 
terror.  It  was  the  dead  body  of  Kennedy.  At  first  sight 
he  seemed  to  have  perished  by  a  fall  from  the  rocks,  which 
rose  above  the  spot  on  which  he  lay,  in  a  perpendicular 
precipice  of  a  hundred  feet  above  the  beach.  The  corpse 
was  lying  half  in,  half  out  of  the  water ;  the  advancing  tide, 
raising  the  arm  and  stirring  the  clothes,  had  given  it  at 
some  distance  the  appearance  of  motion,  so  that  those  who 
first  discovered  the  body  thought  that  life  remained.  But 
every  spark  had  been  long  extinguished. 

'My  bairn  !  by  bairn  !'  cried  the  distracted  father,  'where 
can  he  be?' — A  dozen  mouths  were  open  fo  communicate 
hopes  which  no  one  felt.  Some  one  at  length  mentioned — 
the  gipsies !  In  a  moment  Ellangowan  had  reascended  the 
cliffs,  flung  himself  upon  the  first  horse  he  met.  and  rode 
furiously  to  the  huts  at  Derncleugh.  All  was  there  dark 
and  desolate;  and,  as  he  dismounted  to  make  more  minute 
search,  he  stumbled  over  fragments  of  furniture  which  had 
been  thrown  out  of  the  cottages,  and  the  broken  wood  and 
thatch  which  had  been  pulled  down  by  his  orders.  At  that 
moment  the  prophecy  or  anathema  of  Meg  Merrilies  fell 
heavy  on  his  mind.  'You  have  stripped  the  thatch  from 
seven  cottages, — see  that  the  roof-tree  of  your  own  house 
stand  the  surer !' 

'Restore,'  he  cried,  'restore  my  bairn !  bring  me  back 
my  son,  and  all  shall  be  forgot  and  forgiven !'  As  he 
uttered  these  words  in   a  sort  of   frenzy,   his   eye  caught 


90  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

a  glimmering  of  light  in  one  of  the  dismantled  cottages — 
it  was  that  in  which  Meg  Merrilies  formerly  resided.  The 
light,  which  seemed  to  proceed  from  fire,  glimmered  not 
only  through  the  window,  but  also  through  the  rafters  of 
the  hut  where  the  roofing  had  been  torn  off. 

He  flew  to  the  place;  the  entrance  was  bolted:  despair 
gave  the  miserable  father  the  strength  of  ten  men :  he 
rushed  against  the  door  with  such  violence,  that  it  gave  way 
before  the  momentum  of  his  weight  and  force.  The  cottage 
was  empty,  but  bore  marks  of  recent  habitation:  there  was 
fire  on  the  hearth,  a  kettle,  and  some  preparation  for  food. 
As  he  eagerly  gazed  round  for  something  that  might  confirm 
his  hope  that  his  child  yet  lived,  although  in  the  power  of 
those  strange  people,  a  man  entered  the  hut. 

It  was  his  old  gardener.  'Oh  sir !'  said  the  old  man, 
'such  a  night  as  this  I  trusted  never  to  live  to  see ! — ye 
maun  come  to  the  Place  directly !' 

Ts  my  boy  found? — is  he  alive? — have  ye  found  Harry 
Bertram? — Andrew,  have  ye  found  Harry  Bertram?' 

'No,  sir;  but ' 

'Then  he  is  kidnapped!  I  am  sure  of  it,  Andrew — as 
sure  as  that  I  tread  upon  earth!  She  has  stolen  him — 
and  I  will  never  stir  from  this  place  till  I  have  tidings  of 
my  bairn !' 

'Oh,  but  ye  maun  come  hame,  sir !  ye  maun  come  hame ! 
we  have  sent  for  the  Sheriff,  and  we'll  set  a  watch  here 
a'  night,  in  case  the  gipsies  return;  but  you — ye  maun 
come  hame,  sir, for  my  lady's  in  the  dead-thraw." 

Bertram  turned  a  stupefied  and  unmeaning  eye  on  the 
messenger  who  uttered  this  calamitous  news;  and,  repeat- 
ing the  words  'in  the  dead-thraw !'  as  if  he  could  not 
comprehend  their  meaning,  sufifered  the  old  man  to  drag 
him  towards  his  horse.  During  the  ride  home,  he  only  said, 
'Wife  and  bairn,  baith — mother  and  son,  baith — Sair,  sair 
to  abide !' 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  the  new  scene  of  agony  which 
awaited  him.  The  news  of  Kennedy's  fate  had  been  eagerly 
and  incautiously  communicated  at  Ellangowan,  with  the 
gratuitous    addition,    that    doubtless,    'he    had    drawn    the 

1  Death-agony. 


GUY    MANNERING  91 

young  Laird  over  the  craig  with  him,  though  the  tide  had 
swept  away  the  child's  body— he  was  Hght,  puir  thing !  and 
would  flee  further  into  the  surf.' 

Mrs.  Bertram  heard  the  tidings;  she  was  far  advanced 
in  her  pregnancy;  she  fell  into  the  pains  of  premature 
labour,  and  ere  Ellangowan  had  recovered  his  agitated 
faculties,  so  as  to  comprehend  the  full  distress  of  his  situa- 
tion, he  was  the  father  of  a  female  infant,  and  a  widower. 


CHAPTER  X 

But  see.  his  face  is  black,  and  full  of  blood; 
His  eye-balls  farther  out  than  when  he  lived, 
Staring  full  ghastly  like  a  strangled  man ; 
His  hair  upreared,  his  nostrils  stretched  with  struggling, 
His  hands  abroad  displayed,  as  one  that  gasped. 
And  tugged  for  life,  and  was  by  strength  subdued. 

\  Henry  IV,  Part  First. 

THE  Sheriff-depute  of  the  county  arrived  at  Ellangowan 
next  morning  by  daybreak.  To  this  provincial  magis- 
trate the  law  of  Scotland  assigns  judicial  powers  of 
considerable  extent,  and  the  task  of  inquiring  into  all  crimes 
committed  within  his  jurisdiction,  the  apprehension  and 
commitment  of  suspected  persons,  and  so  forth.^ 

The  gentleman  who  held  the  office  in  the  shire  of at 

the  time  of  this  catastrophe,  was  well  born  and  well 
educated ;  and  though  somewhat  pedantic  and  professional 
in  his  habits,  he  enjoyed  general  respect  as  an  active  and 
intelligent  magistrate.  His  first  employment  was  to  ex- 
amine all  witnesses  whose  evidence  could  throw  light  upon 
this  mysterious  event,  and  make  up  the  written  report, 
proces  verbal,  or  precognition,  as  it  is  technically  called, 
which  the  practice  of  Scotland  has  substituted  for  a  coroner's 
inquest.  Under  the  Sheriff's  minute  and  skilful  inquiry, 
many  circumstances  appeared  which  seemed  incompatible 
with  the  original  opinion  that  Kennedy  had  accidentally 
fallen  from  the  cliff.     We  shall  briefly  detail  some  of  these. 

The  body  had  been  deposited  in  a  neighbouring  fisher- 
hut,  but  without  altering  the  condition  in  which  it  was 
found.  This  was  the  first  object  of  the  Sheriff's  examina- 
tion. Though  fearfully  crushed  and  mangled  by  the  fall 
from  such  a  height,  the  corjjse  was  found  to  exhibit  a  deep 
cut  in  the  head,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  a  skilful  surgeon, 
must  have  been  inflicted  by  a  broadsword,  or  cutlass.     The 

'  The    Scottish    Sheriff    discharges,    on    such    occasions    as    that    now    men- 
tioned, pretty  much  the  same  duty  as  a  Coroner. 

92 


GUY    MANNERTNG  93 

experience  of  this  gentleman  discovered  other  suspicious 
indications.  The  face  was  much  blackened,  the  eyes  dis- 
torted, and  the  veins  of  the  neck  swelled.  A  coloured 
handkerchief,  which  the  unfortunate  man  wore  round  his 
neck,  did  not  present  the  usual  appearance,  but  was  much 
loosened  and  the  knot  displaced  and  dragged  extremely 
tight:  the  folds  were  also  compressed,  as  if  it  had  been  used 
as  a  means  of  grappling  the  deceased,  and  dragging  him 
perhaps  to  the  precipice. 

On  the  other  hand,  poor  Kennedy's  purse  was  found  un- 
touched ;  and,  what  seemed  yet  more  extraordinary,  the 
pistols  which  he  usua'ly  carri^  when  about  to  encounter 
any  hazardous  adventure,  were  found  in  his  pockets  loaded. 
This  appeared  particularly  strange,  for  he  was  known  and 
dreaded  by  the  contraband  traders  as  a  man  equally  fear- 
less and  dexterous  in  the  use  of  his  weapons,  of  which 
he  had  given  many  signal  proofs.  The  Sheriff  inquired 
whether  Kennedy  was  not  in  the  practice  of  carrying  any 
other  arms?  Most  of  Mr.  Bertram's  servants  recollected 
that  he  generally  had  a  couteau  dc  chasse,  or  short  hanger, 
but  none  such  was  found  upon  the  dead  body ;  nor  could 
those  who  had  seen  him  on  the  morning  of  the  fatal  day, 
take  it  upon  them  to  assert  whether  he  then  carried  that 
weapon  or  not. 

The  corpse  afforded  no  other  indicia  respecting  the  fate 
of  Kennedy;  for  though  the  clothes  were  much  displaced, 
and  the  limbs  dreadfully  fractured,  the  one  seemed  the 
probable,  the  other  the  certain,  consequences  of  such  a  fall. 
The  hands  of  the  deceased  were  clenched  fast,  and  full 
of  turf  and  earth  ;  but  this  also  seemed  equivocal. 

The  magistrate  then  proceeded  to  the  place  where  the 
corpse  was  first  discovered,  and  made  those  who  had  found 
it  give,  upon  the  spot,  a  particular  and  detailed  account  of 
the  manner  in  which  it  was  lying.  A  large  fragment  of  the 
rock  appeared  to  have  accompanied,  or  followed  the  fall 
of  the  victim  from  the  cliff  above.  It  was  of  so  solid  and 
compact  a  substance,  that  it  had  fallen,  without  any  great 
diminution  by  splintering,  so  that  the  Sheriff  was  enabled, 
first  to  estimate  the  weight  by,  measurement,  and  then  to 
calculate,  from  the  appearance  of  the  fragment,  what  por- 


94  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

tion  of  it  had  been  bedded  into  the  cliff  from  which  it  had 
descended.  This  was  easily  detected  by  the  raw  appear- 
ance of  the  stone  where  it  had  not  been  exposed  to  the 
atmosphere:  they  then  ascended  the  cliff  and  surveyed  the 
place  from  whence  the  stony  fragment  had  fallen.  It  seemed 
plain,  from  the  appearance  of  the  bed,  that  the  mere  weight 
of  one  man  standing  upon  the  projecting  part  of  the  frag- 
ment, supposing  it  in  its  original  situation,  could  not  have 
destroyed  its  balance,  and  percipitated  it,  with  himself,  from 
the  cliff.  At  the  same  time,  it  appeared  to  have  lain  so 
loose,  that  the  use  of  a  lever,  or  the  combined  strength 
of  three  or  four  men.  might  easily  have  hurled  it  from  its 
position.  The  short  turf  about  the  brink  of  the  precipice 
v.^as  much  trampled,  as  if  stamped  by  the  heels  of  men  in 
a  mortal  struggle,  or  in  the  act  of  some  violent  exertion. 
Traces  of  the  same  kind,  less  visibly  marked,  guided  the 
sagacious  investigator  to  the  verge  of  the  copsewood,  which 
in  that  place  crept  high  up  the  bank  towards  the  top  of 
tlie  precipice. 

With  patience  and  perserverance,  they  traced  these  marks 
into  the  thickest  part  of  the  copse,  a  route  which  no  per- 
son would  have  voluntarily  adopted,  unless  for  the  pur- 
pose of  concealment.  Here  they  found  plain  vestiges  of 
violence  and  struggling,  from  space  to  space.  Small  boughs 
were  torn  down,  as  if  grasped  by  some  resisting  wretch, 
who  was  dragged  forcibly  along;  the  ground,  where  in 
the  least  degree  soft  or  marshy,  showed  the  print  of  many 
feet;  there  were  vestiges  also  which  might  be  those  of 
human  blood.  At  any  rate,  it  was  certain  that  several 
persons  must  have  forced  their  passage  among  the  oaks, 
hazels,  and  underwood,  with  which  they  were  mingled; 
and  in  some  places  appeared  traces,  as  if  a  sack  full  of 
grain,  a  dead  body,  or  something  of  that  heavy  and  solid 
description,  had  been  dragged  along  the  ground.  In  one 
part  of  the  thicket  there  was  a  small  swamp,  the  clay  of 
which  was  whitish,  being  probably  mixed  with  marl.  The 
back  of  Kennedy's  coat  appeared  besmeared  with  stains 
of  the  same  colour. 

At  length,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  brink  of 
the  fatal  precipice,  the  traces  conducted  them  to  a  small 


GUY    MANNERING  95 

open  space  of  ground,  very  much  trampled,  and  plainly 
stained  with  blood,  although  withered  leaves  had  been 
strewed  upon  the  spot  and  other  means  hastily  taken  to 
efface  the  marks,  which  seemed  obviously  to  have  been 
derived  from  a  desperate  affray.  On  one  side  of  this  patch 
of  open  ground  was  found  the  sufferer's  naked  hanger, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  thrown  into  the  thicket;  on 
the  other,  the  belt  and  sheath,  which  appeared  to  have 
been  hidden  with  more  leisurely  care  and  precaution. 

The  magistrate  caused  the  footprints  which  marked  this 
spot  to  be  carefully  measured  and  examined.  Some  corre- 
sponded to  the  foot  of  the  unhappy  vicitm;  some  were 
larger,  some  less;  indicating  that  at  least  four  or  five 
men  had  been  busy  a.ound  him.  Above  all,  here  and  here 
only,  were  observed  the  vestiges  of  a  child's  foot;  and  as 
it  could  be  seen  nowhere  else,  and  the  hard  horse-track 
which  traversed  the  wood  of  Warroch  was  contiguous  to 
the  spot,  it  was  natural  to  think  that  the  boy  might  have 
escaped  in  that  direction  during  the  confusion.  But  as  he 
was  never  heard  of,  the  Sheriff,  who  made  a  careful  entry 
of  all  these  memoranda,  did  not  suppress  his  opinion  that 
the  deceased  had  met  with  foul  play,  and  that  the  murderers, 
whoever  they  were,  had  possessed  themselves  of  the  per- 
son of  the  child  Harry  Bertram. 

Every  exertion  was  now  made  to  discover  the  criminals. 
Suspicion  hesitated  between  the  smugglers  and  the  gipsies. 
The  fate  of  Dirk  Hatteraick's  vessel  was  certain.  Two 
men  from  the  opposite  side  of  Warroch  Bay  (so  the  inlet  on 
the  southern  side  of  the  Point  of  Warroch  is  called)  had 
seen,  though  at  a  great  distance,  the  lugger  drive  eastward 
after  doubling  the  headland,  and,  as  they  judged  from  her 
manoeuvres,  in  a  disabled  state.  Shortly  after,  they  per- 
ceived that  she  grounded,  smoked,  and  finally  took  fire. 
She  was,  as  one  of  them  expressed  himself,  in  a  light  lozo 
(bright  flame)  when  they  observed  a  king's  ship,  with  her 
colours  up,  heave  in  sight  from  behind  the  cape.  The 
guns  of  the  burning  vessel  discharged  themselves  as  the 
fire  reached  them;  and  they  saw  her  at  length  blow  up 
with  a  great  explosion.  The  sloop  of  war  kept  aloof  for 
her  own  safety;  and  after  hovering  till  the  other  exploded, 


96  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

stood  away  southward  under  a  press  of  sail.  The  Sheriff 
anxiously  interrogated  these  men  whether  any  boats  had 
left  the  vessel.  They  could  not  say — they  had  seen  none — 
but  they  might  have  put  off  in  such  a  direction  as  placed 
the  burning  vessel,  and  the  thick  smoke  which  floated  land- 
ward from  it,  between  their  course  and  the  witnesses'  obser- 
vation. 

That  the  ship  destroyed  was  Dirk  Hatteraick's,  no  one 
doubted.  His  lugger  was  well  known  on  the  coast,  and 
had  been  expected  just  at  this  time.  A  letter  from  the 
commander  of  the  king's  sloop,  to  whom  the  Sheriff  made 
application,  put  the  matter  beyond  doubt;  he  sent  also 
an  extract  from  his  log-book  of  the  transactions  of  the  day, 
which  intimated  their  being  on  the  outlook  for  a  smuggling 
lugger,  Dirk  Hatteraick  master,  upon  the  information  and 
requisition  of  Francis  Kennedy,  of  his  Majesty's  excise 
service ;  and  that  Kennedy  was  to  be  upon  the  outlook  on 
the  shore,  in  case  Hatteraick,  who  was  known  to  be  a  des- 
perate fellow  and  had  been  repeatedly  outlawed,  should  at- 
tempt to  run  his  sloop  aground.  About  nine  o'clock  a.m. 
they  discovered  a  sail,  which  answered  the  description  of 
Hatteraick's  vessel,  chased  her,  and  after  repeated  signals 
to  her  to  show  colours  and  bring  to,  fired  upon  her.  The 
chase  then  showed  Hamburgh  colours,  and  returned  the 
fire;  and  a  running  fight  was  maintained  for  three  hours, 
when,  just  as  the  lugger  was  doubling  the  Point  of  War- 
roch,  they  observed  that  the  mainyard  was  shot  in  the  slings, 
and  that  the  vessel  was  disabled.  It  was  not  in  the  power 
of  the  man-of-war's  men  for  some  time  to  profit  by  the  cir- 
cumstance, owing  to  their  having  kept  too  much  in  short  for 
doubling  the  headland.  After  two  tacks,  they  accomplished 
this,  and  observed  the  chase  on  fire,  and  apparently  deserted. 
The  fire  having  reached  some  casks  of  spirits,  which  were 
placed  on  the  deck,  with  other  combustibles,  probably  on 
purpose,  burnt  with  such  fury  that  no  boats  durst  approach 
the  vessel,  especially  as  her  shotted  guns  were  discharg- 
ing, one  after  another,  by  the  heat.  The  captain  had  no 
doubt  whatever  that  the  crew  had  set  the  vessel  on  fire, 
and  escaped  in  their  boats.  After  watching  the  conflagra- 
tion till  the  ship  blew  up,  his  Majesty's  sloop,  the  Shark, 


GUY    MANNERIXG  97 

stood  towards  the  Isle  of  Man.  with  the  purpose  of  inter- 
cepting the  retreat  of  the  smugglers,  who,  though  they  might 
conceal  themselves  in  the  woods  for  a  day  or  two,  would 
probably  take  the  first  opportunity  of  endeavouring  to  make 
for  this  asylum.  But  they  never  saw  more  of  them  than 
is  above  narrated. 

Such  was  the  account  given  by  William  Pritchard,  master 
and  commander  of  his  Majesty's  sloop  of  war  Shark,  who 
concluded  by  regretting  deeply  that  he  had  not  had  the 
happiness  to  fall  in  with  the  scoundrels,  who  had  had  the 
impudence  to  fire  on  his  Majesty's  flag,  and  with  an  assur- 
ance that,  should  he  meet  Mr.  Dirk  Hatteraick  in  any  future 
cruise,  he  would  not  fail  to  bring  him  into  port  under  his 
stern,  to  answer  whatever  might  be  alleged  against  him. 

As,  therefore,  it  see.ned  tolerably  certain  that  the  men  on 
board  the  lugger  had  escaped,  the  death  of  Kennedy,  if 
he  fell  in  with  them  in  the  woods,  when  irritated  by  the 
loss  of  their  vessel  and  by  the  share  he  had  in  it,  was  easily 
to  be  accounted  for.  And  it  was  not  improbable,  that 
to  such  brutal  tempers,  rendered  desperate  by  their  own 
circumstances,  even  the  murder  of  the  child,  against  whose 
father,  as  having  become  suddenly  active  in  the  prosecution 
of  smugglers,  Hatteraick  was  known  to  have  uttered  deep 
threats,  would  not  appear  a  very  heinous  crime. 

Against  this  hypothesis  it  was  urged,  that  a  crew  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  men  could  not  have  lain  hidden  upon 
the  coast  when  so  close  a  search  took  place  immediately  after 
the  destruction  of  their  vessel ;  or,  at  least,  that  if  they  had 
hid  themselves  in  the  woods,  their  boats  must  have  been 
seen  on  the  beach ; — that  in  such  precarious  circumstances, 
and  when  all  retreat  must  have  seemed  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  it  was  not  to  be  thought  that  they  would  have 
all  united  to  commit  a  useless  murder  for  the  mere  sake  of 
revenge.  Those  who  held  this  opinion  supposed,  either 
that  the  boats  of  the  lugger  had  stood  out  to  sea  without 
being  observed  by  those  who  were  intent  upon  gazing 
at  the  burning  vessel,  and  so  gained  safe  distance  before 
the  sloop  got  round  the  headland;  or  else  that,  the  boats 
being  staved  or  destroyed  by  the  fire  of  the  shot  during 
the  chase,  the  crew  had  obstinately   determined  to   perish 


98  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

with  the  vessel.  What  gave  some  countenance  to  this  sup- 
posed act  of  desperation  was,  that  neither  Dirk  Hatteraick 
nor  any  of  his  sailors,  all  well-known  men  in  the  fair- 
trade,  were  again  seen  upon  that  coast,  or  heard  of  in  the 
Isle  of  Man,  where  strict  inquiry  was  made.  On  the  other 
hand,  only  one  dead  body,  apparently  that  of  a  seaman 
killed  by  a  cannon-shot,  drifted  ashore.  So  all  that  could 
be  done  was  to  register  the  names,  description,  and  appear- 
ance of  the  individuals  belonging  to  the  ship's  company, 
and  offer  a  reward  for  the  apprehension  of  them,  or  any 
one  of  them ;  extending  also  to  any  person,  not  the  actual 
murderer,  who  should  give  evidence  tending  to  convict 
those  who  had  murthered  Francis  Kennedy. 

Another  opinion,  which  was  also  plausibly  supported, 
went  to  charge  this  horrid  crime  upon  the  late  tenants  of 
Derncleugh.  They  were  known  to  have  resented  highly 
the  conduct  of  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan  towards  them, 
and  to  have  used  threatening  expressions,  which  every  one 
supposed  them  capable  of  carrying  into  effect.  The  kid- 
napping the  child  was  a  crime  much  more  consistent  with 
their  habits  than  with  those  of  smugglers,  and  his  temporary 
guardian  might  have  fallen  in  an  attempt  to  protect,  him. 
Besides,  it  was  remembered  that  Kennedy  had  been  an 
active  agent,  two  or  three  days  before,  in  the  forcible  ex- 
pulsion of  these  people  from  Derncleugh,  and  that  harsh 
and  menacing  language  had  been  exchanged  between  him 
and  some  of  the  Egyptian  patriarchs  on  that  memorable 
occasion. 

The  sheriff  received  also  the  depositions  of  the  unfor- 
tunate father  and  his  servant,  concerning  what  had  passed 
at  their  meeting  the  caravan  of  gipsies,  as  they  left  the 
estate  of  Ellangowan.  The  speech  of  Meg  Merrilies  seemed 
particularly  suspicious.  There  was.  as  the  magistrate  ob- 
served in  his  law  language,  damnum  minatum — a  damage, 
or  evil  turn,  threatened,  and  malum  sccutum — an  evil  of 
the  very  kind  predicted,  shortly  afterwards  following.  A 
yoimg  woman,  who  had  been  gathering  nuts  in  Warroch 
wood  upon  the  fatal  day,  was  also  strongly  of  opinion, 
though  she  declined  to  make  positive  oath,  that  she  had 
seen  Meg  Merrilies,  at  least  a  woman  of  her  remarkable 


GUY    MANNERTNG  99 

size  and  appearance,  start  suddenly  out  of  a  thicket — she 
said  she  had  called  to  her  by  name,  but,  as  the  figure 
turned  from  her  and  made  no  answer,  she  was  uncertain  if 
it  were  the  gipsy  or  her  wraith,  and  was  afraid  to  go  nearer 
to  one  who  was  always  reckoned,  in  the  vulgar  phrase, 
no  canny.  This  vague  story  received  some  corroboration 
from  the  circumstance  of  a  fire  being  that  evening  found 
in  the  gipsy's  deserted  cottage.  To  this  fact  Ellangowan 
and  his  gardner  bore  evidence.  Yet  it  seemed  extrava- 
gant to  suppose,  that,  had  this  woman  been  accessory  to 
such  a  dreadful  crime,  she  would  have  returned  that  very 
evening  on  which  it  was  committed,  to  the  place  of  all  others 
where  she  was  most  li'-ely  to  be  sought  after. 

Meg  Merrilies  was,  however,  apprehended  and  examined. 
She  denied  strongly  having  been  either  at  Derncleugh  or 
in  the  wood  of  Warroch  upon  the  day  of  Kennedy's  death; 
and  several  of  her  tribe  made  oath  in  her  behalf,  that  she 
had  never  quitted  their  encampment,  which  was  in  a  glen 
about  ten  miles  distant  from  Ellangowan.  Their  oaths 
were  indeed  little  to  be  trusted  to; — but  what  other  evi- 
dence could  be  had  in  the  circumstances?  There  was  one 
remarkable  fact,  and  only  one,  which  arose  from  her  ex- 
amination. Her  arm  appeared  to  be  slightly  wounded  by 
the  cut  of  a  sharp  weapon,  and  was  tied  up  with  a  hand- 
kerchief of  Harry  Bertram's.  But  the  chief  of  the  horde 
acknowledged  he  had  'corrected  her'  that  day  with  his 
whinger — she  herself,  and  others,  gave  the  same  account 
of  her  hurt ;  and,  for  the  handkerchief,  the  quantity  of 
linen  stolen  from  Ellangowan  during  the  last  months  of 
their  residence  on  the  estate,  easily  accounted  for  it, 
without  charging  Meg  with  a  more  heinous  crime. 

It  was  observed,  upon  her  examination,  that  she  treated 
the  questions  respecting  the  death  of  Kennedy,  or  'the 
ganger.'  as  she  called  him,  with  indifference;  but  expressed 
great  and  emphatic  scorn  and  indignation  at  being  supposed 
capable  of  injuring  little  Harry  Bertram.  She  was  long 
confined  in  jail  under  the  hope  that  something  might  yet 
be  discovered  to  throw  light  upon  this  dark  and  bloody 
transaction.  Nothing,  however,  occurred;  and  Meg  was 
at  length  liberated,  but  under  sentence  of  banishment  from 


100  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  county  as  a  vagrant,  common  thief,  and  disorderly  per- 
son. No  traces  of  the  boy  could  ever  be  discovered;  and, 
at  length,  the  story,  after  making  much  noise,  was, 
gradually  given  up  as  altogether  inexplicable,  and  only 
perpetuated  by  the  name  of  'The  Gauger's  Loop,'  which 
was  generally  bestowed  on  the  cliff  from  which  the  unfor- 
tunate man  had  fallen  or  been  percipitated. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Enter  Time,   as  Chorus 

I — ^that  please  some,  try  all ;  both  joy  and  terror 
Of  good  and  bad ;  that  make  and  unfold  error — 
Now  take  upon  me,  in  the  name  of  Time 
To  use  my  wings.     Impute  it  not  a  crime 
'To  me,  or  my  swift  passage,  that  I  slide 
O'er  sixteen  years,  and  leave  the  growth  untried 
Of  that  wide  gap. 

Winter's  Tale. 

OUR  narration  is  now  about  to  make  a  large  stride, 
and  omit  a  space  of  nearly  seventeen  years ;  dur- 
ing which  nothing  occurred  of  any  particular  con- 
sequence with  respect  to  the  story  we  have  undertaken  to 
tell.  The  gap  is  a  wide  one ;  yet  if  the  reader's  experi- 
ence in  life  enables  him  to  look  back  on  so  many  years, 
the  space  will  scarce  appear  longer  in  his  recollection  than 
the  time  consumed  in  turning  these  pages. 

It  was,  then,  in  the  month  of  November,  about  seventeen 
years  after  the  catastrophe  related  in  the  last  chapter, 
that,  during  a  cold  and  stormy  night,  a  social  group  had 
closed  round  the  kitchen  fire  of  the  'Gordon  Arms'  at  Kip- 
pletringan,  a  small  but  comfortable  inn,  kept  by  Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish  in  that  village.  The  conversation  which  passed 
among  them  will  save  me  the  trouble  of  telling  the  few 
events  occurring  during  this  chasm  in  our  history,  with 
which  it  is  necessary  that  the  reader  should  be  acquainted. 
Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  throned  in  a  comfortable  easy  chair 
lined  with  black  leather,  was  regaling  herself,  and  a  neigh- 
bouring gossip  or  two,  with  a  cup  of  genuine  tea,  and  at 
the  same  time  keeping  a  sharp  eye  upon  her  domestics, 
as  they  went  and  came  in  prosecution  of  their  various  duties 
and  commissions.  The  clerk  and  precentor  of  the  parish 
enjoyed  at  a  little  distance  his  Saturday  night's  pipe,  and 
aided  its  bland  fumigation  by  an  occasional  sip  of  brandy 

101 


109  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

and  water.  Deacon  Bearcliff,  a  man  of  great  importance 
in  the  village,  combined  the  indulgence  of  both  parties — 
he  had  his  pipe  and  his  tea-cup,  the  latter  being  laced  with 
a  little  spirits.  One  or  two  clowns  sat  at  some  distance, 
drinking  their  twopenny  ale. 

'Are  ye  sure  the  parlour's  ready  for  them,  and  the  fire 
burning  clear,  and  the  chimney  no  smoking?'  said  the  hos- 
tess to  a  chambermaid. 

She  was  answered  in  the  aflfirmative. — 'Ane  wadna  be 
uncivil  to  them,  especially  in  their  distress,'  said  she,  turn- 
ing to  the  Deacon. 

'Assuredly  not,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish ;  assuredly  not.  I  am 
sure  ony  sma'  thing  they  might  want  frae  my  shop,  under 
seven,  or  eight,  or  ten  pounds,  I  would  book  them  as  readily 
for  it  as  the  first  in  the  country. — Do  they  come  in  the  auld 
chaise?' 

'I  dare  say  no.'  said  the  precentor;  'for  Miss  Bertram 
comes  on  the  white  powny  ilka  day  to  the  kirk — and  a 
constant  kirk-keeper  she  is — and  it's  a  pleasure  to  hear 
her  singing  the  psalms,  winsome  young  thing.' 

'Ave,  and  the  young  Laird  of  Hazlewood  rides  hame  half 
the  road  wi'  her  after  sermon,'  said  one  of  the  gossips  in 
company :  'I  wonder  how  auld  Hazlewood  likes  that.' 

'I  kenna  how  he  may  like  it  now,'  answered  another  of 
the  tea-drinkers;  'but  the  day  has  been  when  EUangowan 
wad  hae  liked  as  little  to  see  his  daughter  taking  up  with 
their  son.' 

'Aye,  Jias  been'  answered  the  first,  with  somewhat  of 
emphasis. 

'I  am  sure,  neighbour  Ovens,'  said  the  hostess,  'the  Hazle- 
woods  of  Hazlewood,  though  they  are  a  very  gude  auld 
family  in  the  country,  never  thought,  till  within  these  twa 
score  o'  years,  of  evening  themselves  till  the  Ellangowans. — 
Wow,  woman,  the  Bertrams  of  EUangowan  are  the  auld 
Dingawaies  lang  syne — there  is  a  sang  about  ane  o'  them 
marrying  a  daughter  of  the  King  of  Man ;  it  begins, 

Elythe   Bertram's  ta'en  him  ower  the  faem, 
To  wed  a  wife,  and  bring  her  hame 

I  daur  say  Mr.  Skreigh  can  sing  us  the  ballant.' 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  103 

'Gndewife,'  said  Skreigh,  gathering  up  his  mouth,  and 
sipping  his  tiff  of  brandy  punch  with  great  solemnity,  "our 
talents  were  gien  us  to  other  use  than  to  sing  daft  auld 
sangs  sae  near  the  Sabbath  day.' 

'Hout  fie,  Mr.  Skreigh;  I'se  warrant  I  hae  heard  you 
sing  a  blythe  sang  on  Saturday  at  e'en  before  now. — But 
as  for  the  chaise,  Deacon,  it  hasna  been  out  of  the  coach- 
house since  Mrs.  Bertram  died,  that's  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years  sin  syne. — Jock  Jabos  is  away  wi'  a  chaise  of  mine 
for  them ; — I  wonder  he's  no  come  back.  It's  pit  mirk — 
but  there's  no  an  ill  turn  on  the  road  but  twa,  and  the 
brigg  ower  Warroch  burn  is  safe  eneugh,  if  he  baud  to 
the  right  side.  But  them  there's  Heavieside-brae.  that's 
just  a  murder  for  Dost-cattle — but  Jock  kens  the  road 
brawly.' 

A  loud  rapping  was  heard  at  the  door. 

'That's  no  them.  I  didna  hear  the  wheels. — Grizzel,  ye 
limmer,  gang  to  the  door.' 

'It's  a  single  gentleman/  whined  out  Grizzel ;  'maun  I 
take  him  into  the  parlour  ?' 

'Foul  be  in  your  feet,  then;  it'll  be  some  English  rider. 
Coming  without  a  servant  at  this  time  o'  night ! — Has  the 
ostler  ta'en  the  horse? — Ye  may  light  a  spunk  o'  fire  in  the 
red  room.' 

'I  wish,  ma'am,'  said  the  traveller,  entering  the  kitchen, 
'you  would  give  me  leave  to  warm  myself  here,  for  the 
night  is  very  cold.' 

His  appearance,  voice,  and  manner,  produced  an  instan- 
taneous effect  in  his  favour.  He  was  a  handsome,  tall,  thin 
figure,  dressed  in  black,  as  appeared  when  he  laid  aside  his 
riding-coat;  his  age  might  be  between  forty  and  fifty: 
his  cast  of  features  grave  and  interesting,  and  his  air 
somewhat  military.  Every  point  of  his  appearance  and 
address  bespoke  the  gentleman.  Long  habit  had  given  Mrs. 
Mac-Candlish  an  acute  tact  in  ascertaining  the  quality  of 
her  visitors,  and  proportioning  her  reception  accordingly : — 

To  every  guest  the  appropriate  speech  was   made, 
And   every   duty   with   distinction   paid ; 
Respectful,  easy,   pleasant,   or  polite — 
'Your   honour's   servant ! — Mister   Smith,   good-night.' 


101  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

On  the  present  occasion,  she  was  low  in  her  curtsy,  and 
profuse  in  her  apologies.  The  stranger  begged  his  horse 
might  be  attended  to — she  went  out  herself  to  school  the 
ostler. 

'There  was  never  a  prettier  bit  o'  horse-flesh  in  the 
stable  o'  the  "Gordon  Arms",'  said  the  man;  which  informa- 
tion increased  the  landlady's  respect  for  the  rider.  Finding, 
on  her  return,  that  the  stranger  declined  to  go  into  another 
apartment  (which  indeed,  she  allowed,  would  be  but  cold 
and  smoky  till  the  fire  bleezed  up),  she  installed  her  guest 
hospitably  by  the  fire-side,  and  offered  what  refreshment 
her  house  afforded. 

'A  cup  of  your  tea,  ma'am,  if  you  will  favour  me.' 

Mrs.  Mac-Candlish  bustled  about,  reinforced  her  teapot 
with  hyson,  and  proceeded  in  her  duties  with  her  best  grace. 
'We  have  a  very  nice  parlour,  sir,  and  everything  very 
agreeable  for  gentlefolks;  but  it  's  bespoke  the-night  for 
a  gentleman  and  his  daughter,  that  are  going  to  leave 
this  part  of  the  country — ane  of  my  chaises  is  gane  for 
them,  and  will  be  back  forthwith.  They're  no  sae  weel 
in  the  warld  as  they  have  been;  but  we're  a'  subject 
to  ups  and  downs  in  this  life,  as  your  honour  must  needs 
ken — but  is  not  the  tobacco-reek  disagreeable  to  your 
honour  ?' 

'By  no  means,  ma'am;  I  am  an  old  campaigner  and^per- 
fectly  used  to  it. — Will  you  permit  me  to  make  some  in- 
quiries about  a  family  in  this  neighbourhood?' 

The  sound  of  wheels  was  now  heard,  and  the  landlady 
hurried  to  the  door  to  receive  her  expected  guests;  but 
returned  in  an  instant,  followed  by  the  postilion. — 'No, 
they  canna  come  at  no  rate,  the  Laird's  sae  ill.' 

'But  God  help  them !'  said  the  landlady,  'the  morn's 
the  term — the  very  last  day  they  can  bide  in  the  house — 
a'  thing's  to  be  roupit.' 

'Weel,  but  they  can  come  at  no  rate,  I  tell  ye — Mr.  Bert- 
ram canna  be  moved.' 

'What  Mr.  Bertram?'  said  the  stranger;  'not  Mr.  Bertram 
of  Ellangowan,  I  hope?' 

'Just  e'en  that  same,  sir;  and  if  ye  be  a  friend  o'  his,  ye 
have  come  at  a  time  when  he  's  sair  bested.' 


GUY    MANNER  I XG  105 

*I  have  been  abroad  for  many  years; — is  his  health  so 
much  deranged?' 

'Aye,  and  his  affairs  an'  a','  said  the  Deacon ;  'the  creditors 
have  entered  into  possession  o'  the  estate,  and  it's  for  sale; 
and  some  that  made  the  maist  by  him — I  name  nae  names, 
but  I\Irs.  Mac-Candlish  kens  wha  1  mean' — (the  landlady 
shook  her  head  significantly) — 'they're  sairest  on  him  e'en 
now.  I  have  a  sma'  matter  due  mysell,  but  I  would  rather 
have  lost  it  than  gane  to  turn  the  auld  man  out  of  his  house, 
and  him  just  dying.' 

'Aye,  but,'  said  the  parish-clerk,  'Factor  Glossin  wants 
to  get  rid  of  the  auld  Laird,  and  drive  on  the  sale,  for  fear 
the  heir-male  should  cast  up  upon  them ;  for  I  have  heard 
say,  if  there  was  an  heir-male,  they  couldna  sell  the  estate 
for  auld  Ellangowan'  ■.  debt.' 

'He  had  a  son  born  a  good  many  years  ago,'  said  the 
stranger;  'he  is  dead.  I  suppose?' 

'Nae  man  can  say  for  that,'  answered  the  clerk,  mys- 
teriously. 

'Dead !'  said  the  Deacon,  Tse  warrant  him  dead  lang 
syne ;  he  hasna  been  heard  o'  these  twenty  years  or  thereby.' 

'I  wot  weel  it  's  no  twenty  years,'  said  the  landlady; 
'it's  no  abune  seventeen  at  the  outside  in  this  very  month ; 
it  made  an  unco  noise  ower  a'  this  country — the  bairn  dis- 
appeared the  very  day  that  Supervisor  Kennedy  cam  by  his 
end. — If  ye  kenn'd  this  country  lang  syne,  your  honour  wad 
maybe  ken  Frank  Kennedy  the  Supervisor.  He  was  a  heart- 
some  pleasant  man,  and  company  for  the  best  gentlemen  in 
the  county,  and  muckle  mirth  he  's  made  in  this  house.  I 
was  young  then,  sir,  and  newly  married  to  Bailie  ]\Iac-Cand- 
lish,  that  's  dead  and  gone' —  (a  sigh) — 'and  muckle  fun 
I've  had  wi'  the  Supervisor.  He  was  a  daft  dog. — Oh,  an 
he  could  hae  hauden  aff  the  smugglers  a  bit !  but  he  was 
ay  venturesome. — And  so  ye  see,  sir,  there  was  a  king's 
sloop  down  in  Wigton  bay,  and  Frank  Kennedy,  he  behoved 
to  have  her  up  to  chase  Dirk  Hatteraick's  lugger — ye'll  mind 
Dirk  Hatteraick,  Deacon?  T  dare  say  ye  may  have  dealt 
wi'  him' — (the  Deacon  gave  a  sort  of  acquiescent  nod  and 
humph).  'He  was  a  daring  chield,  and  he  fought  his  ship 
till  she  blew  up  like  peelings  of  ingans;  and  Frank  Ken- 


106  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

nedy  he  had  been  the  first  man  to  board,  and  he  was  flung 
Hke  a  quarter  of  a  mile  oft",  and  fell  into  the  water  below 
the  rock  at  Warroch  Point,  that  they  ca'  the  Ganger's  Loup 
to  this  day.' 

'And  Mr.  Bertram's  child/  said  the  stranger,  'what  is  al! 
this  to  him?' 

'Ou,  sir,  the  bairn  ay  held  an  unca  wark  wi'  the  Super- 
visor; and  it  was  generally  thought  he  went  on  board  the 
vessel  alang  wi'  him,  as  bairns  are  ay  forward  to  be  in  mis- 
chief.' 

'No,  no,'  said  the  Deacon,  'ye're  clean  out  there.  Luckie 
— for  the  young  Laird  was  stown  away  by  a  randy  gipsy 
woman  they  ca'd  Meg  Merrilies — I  mind  her  looks  weel — 
in  revenge  for  Ellangowan  having  gar'd  her  be  drumm'd 
through  Kippletringan  for  stealing  a  silver  spoon.' 

'If  ye'll  forgie  me.  Deacon,'  said  the  precentor,  'ye're 
e'en  as  far  wrang  as  the  gudewife.' 

'And  what  is  your  edition  of  the  story,  sir?'  said  the 
stranger,  turning  to  him  with  interest. 

'That's  maybe  no  sae  canny  to  tell,'   said  the  precentor. 

Upon  being  urged,  however,  to  speak  out,  he  preluded 
with  two  or  three  large  puffs  of  tobacco-smoke,  and  out 
of  the  cloudy  sanctuary  which  these  whiffs  formed  round 
him,  delivered  the  following  legend,  having  cleared  his 
voice  with  one  or  two  hems,  and  imitating,  as  near  as  he 
could,  the  eloquence  whicli  weekly  thundered  over  his  head 
from  the  pulpit. 

'What  we  are  now  to  deliver,  my  brethren, — hem — hem, 
— T  mean,  my  good  friends, — was  not  done  in  a  corner,  and 
may  serve  as  an  answer  to  witch-advocates,  atheists,  and 
misbelievers  of  all  kinds.  Ye  must  know  that  the  worship- 
ful Laird  of  Ellangowan  was  not  so  preceese  as  he  might 
have  been  in  clearing  his  land  of  witches  (concerning  whom 
it  is  said  "Thou  shalt  not  suffer  a  witch  to  live")  nor  of 
tliose  who  had  familiar  spirits,  and  consulted  with  divina- 
tion, and  scorcery,  and  lots,  which  is  the  fashion  with  the 
Egyptians,  as  they  ca'  themsells,  and  other  unhappy  bodies, 
in  this  our  country.  And  the  Laird  was  three  years  mar- 
ried without  having  a  family — and  he  was  sae  left  to  him- 
sell,  that  it  was  thought  he  held  ower  muckle  troking  and 


GUY    MANNERING  107 

communing  \vi'  that  Meg  Merrilies,  wha  was  the  maist 
notorious   witch  in  a'   Galloway  and  Dumfries-shire  baith.' 

'Aweel,  I  wot  there's  something  in  that,'  said  Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish;  'I've  kenn'd  him  order  her  twa  glasses  o'  brandy 
in  this  very  house.' 

'Aweel,  gudewife,  then  the  less  I  lee. — Sae  the  lady  was 
wi'  bairn  at  last,  and  in  the  night  when  she  should  have 
been  delivered,  there  comes  to  the  door  of  the  ha'  house — 
the  Place  of  EUangowan  as  they  ca'd — an  ancient  man. 
strangely  habited,  and  asked  for  quarters.  His  head,  and 
his  legs,  and  his  arms  were  bare,  although  it  was  winter 
time  o'  the  year,  and  he  had  a  grey  beard  three  quarters 
lang.  Weel,  he  was  admitted;  and  when  the  lady  was 
delivered,  he  craved  to  know  the  very  moment  of  the  hour 
of  the  birth,  and  he  went  out  and  consulted  the  stars. 
And  when  he  came  back,  he  tell'd  the  Laird,  that  the  Evil 
One  wad  have  power  over  the  knave-bairn  that  was  that 
night  born,  and  he  charged  him  that  the  babe  should  be 
bred  up  in  the  ways  of  piety,  and  that  he  should  hae  a  godly 
minister  at  his  elbow,  to  pray  wi'  the  bairn  and  /or  him. 
And  the  aged  man  vanished  away,  and  no  man  of  this 
country  ever  saw  mair  o'  him.' 

'Now,  that  will  not  pass,*  said  the  postilion,  who,  at  a 
respectful  distance,  was  listening  to  the  conversation,  'beg- 
ging Mr.  Skreigh's  and  the  company's  pardon, — there  was 
no  sae  mony  hairs  on  the  warlock's  face  as  there's  on 
Letter-Gae's'  ain  at  this  moment ;  and  he  had  as  gude 
a  pair  o'  boots  as  a  man  need  streik  on  his  legs,  and 
gloves  too ; — and  I  should  understand  boots  by  this  time, 
I   think; 

'Whist,  Jock,'  said  the  landlady. 

'Aye?  and  what  do  yc  ken  o'  the  matter,  friend  Jabos?' 
said  the  precentor,  contemptuously. 

'No  muckle,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Skreigh — only  that  I  lived 
within  a  penny-stane  cast  o'  the  head  o'  the  avenue  at  EUan- 
gowan, when  a  man  cam  jingling  to  our  door  that  night 
the  young  Laird  was  born,  and  my  mother  sent  me,  that 
was  a  hafflin  callant,  to  show  the  stranger  the  gate  to  the 

*  The  precentor  is  called  by  Allen  Ramsay, — 'The  Letter-Gae  of  haly 
rhyme.' 

D-5 


108  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Place,  which,  if  he  had  been  sic  a  warlock,  he  might  hae 
kenn'd  himsell,  ane  wad  think — and  he  was  a  young,  weel- 
faured,  weel-dressed  lad.  like  an  Englishman.  And  I  tell 
ye  he  had  as  gude  a  hat,  and  boots,  and  glove,  as  ony  gentle- 
man need  to  have.  To  be  sure  he  did  gie  an  awsome  glance 
up  at  the  auld  castle — and  there  was  some  spaewark  gaed 
on — I  ay  heard  that;  but  as  for  his  vanishing,  I  held  the 
stirrup  mysell  when  he  gaed  away,  and  he  gied  me  a  round 
half-crown — he  was  riding  on  a  haick  they  ca'd  Souple  Sam 
— it  belanged  to  the  "George"  at  Dumfries — it  was  a  blood- 
bay  beast,  very  ill  o'  the  spavin — I  hae  seen  the  beast  baith 
before  and  since.' 

'Aweel,  aweel,  Jock,'  answered  Mr.  Skreigh,  with  a  tone 
of  mild  solemnity,  'our  accounts  differ  in  no  material  par- 
ticulars ;  but  I  had  no  knowledge  that  ye  had  seen  the  man. — 
So  ye  see,  my  friends,  that  this  soothsayer  having  prognosti- 
cated evil  to  the  boy,  his  father  engaged  a  godly  minister 
to  be  with  him  morn  and  night.' 

'Aye,  that  was  him  they  ca'd  Dominie  Sampson,'  said 
the  postilion. 

'He's  but  a  dumb  dog  that,'  observed  the  Deacon;  *I 
have  heard  that  he  never  could  preach  five  words  of  a 
sermon  endlang,   for  as  lang  as  he  has  been  licensed.' 

'Weel,  but,'  said  the  precentor,  waving  his  hand,  as  if 
eager  to  retreive  the  command  of  the  discourse,  'he  waited 
on  the  young  Laird  by  night  and  day.  Now  it  chanced, 
when  the  bairn  was  near  five  years  auld,  that  the  Laird 
had  a  sight  of  his  errors,  and  determined  to  put  these 
Egyptians  aff  his  ground ;  and  he  caused  them  to  remove ; 
and  that  Frank  Kennedy,  that  was  a  rough  swearing  fel- 
low, he  was  sent  to  turn  them  off.  And  he  cursed  and 
damned  at  them,  and  they  swure  at  him;  and  that  Meg 
Merrilies,  that  was  the  maist  powerfu'  with  the  Enemy 
of  Mankind,  she  as  gude  as  said  she  would  have  him,  body 
and  soul,  before  three  days  were  ower  his  head.  And  I  have 
it  from  a  sure  hand,  and  that's  ane  wha  saw  it,  and  that's 
John  Wilson  that  was  the  Laird's  groom,  that  Meg  appeared 
to  the  Laird  as  he  was  riding  hame  from  Singleside,  over 
Gibbie's-know,  and  threatened  him  wi'  what  she  wad  do 
to  his  family;  but  whether  it  was  Meg,  or  something  waur 


GUY    MANNERIXG  109 

in  her  likeness,  for  it  seemed  bigger  than  ony  mortal  creature, 
John  could  not  say.' 

'Aweel,'  said  the  postilion,  'it  might  be  sae — I  canna  say 
against  it,  for  I  was  not  in  the  country  at  the  time;  but 
John  Wilson  was  a  blustering  kind  of  chield,  without  the 
heart  of  a  sprug.' 

'And  what  was  the  end  of  all  this?'  said  the  stranger, 
with  some  impatience. 

'Ou,  the  event  and  upshot  of  it  was,  sir,'  said  the  pre- 
centor, 'that  while  they  were  all  looking  on,  beholding  a 
king's  ship  chase  a  smuggler,  this  Kennedy  suddenly  brake 
away  frae  them,  without  ony  reason  that  could  be  descried 
— ropes  nor  tows  wad  not  hae  held  him — and  made  for  the 
wood  of  Warroch  as  fast  as  his  beast  could  carry  him; 
and  by  the  way  he  m^'  the  young  Laird  and  his  governor, 
and  he  snatched  up  the  bairn,  and  swure,  if  he  was  be- 
witched, the  bairn  should  have  the  same  luck  as  him;  and 
the  minister  followed  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  almaist  as 
fast  as  them,  for  he  was  wonderfully  swift  of  foot — and 
he  saw  Meg  the  witch,  or  her  master  in  her  similitude,  rise 
suddenly  out  of  the  ground,  and  caught  the  bairn  sud- 
denly out  of  the  gauger's  arms — and  then  he  rampauged 
and  drew  his  sword — for  ye  ken  a  fie  man  and  a  cusser 
fearsna  the  deil.' 

'I  believe  that's  very  true,'  said  the  postilion. 

'So,  sir,  she  grippit  him,  and  clodded  him  like  a  stane 
from  the  sling  over  the  craigs  of  Warroch-head,  where 
he  was  found  that  evening — but  what  became  of  the  babe, 
frankly  I  cannot  say.  But  he  that  was  minister  here  then, 
that's  now  in  a  better  place,  had  an  opinion  that  the  bairn 
was  only  conveyed  to  Fairy-land  for  a  season.' 

The  stranger  had  smiled  slightly  at  some  parts  of  this 
recital,  but  ere  he  could  answer,  the  clatter  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  was  heard,  and  a  smart  servant,  handsomely  dressed, 
with  a  cockade  in  his  hat,  bustled  into  the  kitchen,  with 
'Make  a  little  room,  good  people;'  when,  observing  the 
stranger,  he  descended  at  once  into  the  modest  and  civil 
domestic,  his  hat  sunk  down  by  his  side,  and  he  put  a  letter 
into  his  master's  hands.  'The  family  at  Ellangowan,  sir, 
are  in  great  distress,  and  unable  to  receive  any  visits.' 


110  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'I  know  it,'  replied  his  master. — 'And  now,  madam,  if  you 
will  have  the  goodness  to  allow  me  to  occupy  the  parlour 
you  mentioned,  as  you  are  disappointed  of  your  guests ' 

'Certainly,  sir,'  said  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  and  hastened  to 
light  the  way  with  all  the  imperative  bustle  which  an  active 
landlady  loves  to  display  on  such  occasions. 

'You  man,'  said  the  Deacon  to  the  servant,  filling  a  glass, 
'ye'll  no  be  the  waur  o'  this,  after  your  ride.' 

'Not  a  feather,  sir, — thank  ye — your  very  good  health, 
sir.' 

'And  wha  may  your  motive  be,   friend?' 

'What,  the  gentleman  that  was  here? — that's  the  famous 
Colonel   Mannering,   sir,   from  the   East   Indies.' 

'What,  him  we  read  of  in  the  newspapers?' 

'Aye,  aye,  just  the  same.  It  was  he  relieved  Cuddieburn, 
and  defended  Chingalore,  and  defeated  the  great  Mahratta 
chief.  Ram  Jolli  Bundleman — I  was  with  him  in  most  of 
his  campaigns.' 

'Lord  safe  us,'  said  the  landlady,  'I  must  go  see  what  he 
would  have  for  supper — that  I  should  set  him  down  here!' 

'Oh,  he  likes  that  all  the  better,  mother;— you  never  saw 
a  plainer  creature  in  your  life  than  our  old  Colonel;  and 
yet  he  has  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  him  too.' 

The  rest  of  the  evening's  conversation  below  stairs  tend- 
ing little  to  edification,  we  shall  with  the  reader's  leave, 
step  up  to  the  parlour. 


i 


CHAPTER  XII 
-Reputation  ? that's  man's  idoi 


Set  up  against  God,  the  Maker  of  all  laws. 
Who   hath  commanded  us  we  should  not  kill. 
And  yet  we   say   we  must,   for   Reputation  ! 
What  honest  man  can  either  fear  his  own, 
Or  else  will  hurt  another's  reputation  ? 
Fear  to  do  base  unworthy  things  is  valour ; 
If  they  be  done  to  us,  to  suffer  them 
Is   valour  too. 

Ben  Jonson. 

THE  Colonel  was  walking  pensively  up  and  down  the 
parlour,  when  lixe  officious  landlady  re-entered  to  take 
his  commands.  Having  given  them  in  the  manner  he 
thought  would  be  most  acceptable  for  the  good  of  the  house,' 
he  begged  to  detain  her  a  moment. 

'I  think,'  he  said,  'madam,  if  I  understood  the  good  people 
right,  Mr.  Bertram  lost  his  son  in  his  fifth  year?' 

'Oh  aye,  sir,  there's  nae  doubt  o'  that,  through  there  are 
mony  idle  clashes  about  the  way  and  manner ;  for  it's  an  auld 
story  now,  and  everybody  tells  it,  as  we  were  doing,  their 
ain  way  by  the  ingleside.  But  lost  the  bairn  was  in  his  fifth 
year,  as  your  honour  says.  Colonel ;  and  the  news  being  rashly 
tell'd  to  the  leddy,  then  great  with  child,  cost  her  her  life 
that  samyn  night — and  the  Laird  never  throve  after  that  day, 
but  was  just  careless  of  everything — though,  when  his  daugh- 
ter Miss  Lucy  grew  up,  she  tried  to  keep  order  within  doors — 
but  what  could  she  do,  poor  thing? — so  now  they're  out  of 
house  and  hauld.' 

'Can  you  recollect,  madam,  about  what  time  of  the  year 
the  child  was  lost?"  The  landlady,  after  a  pause,  and  some 
recollection,  answered,  'she  was  positive  it  was  about  this 
season ;'  and  added  some  local  recollections  that  fixed  the 
date  in  her  memory,  as  occurring  about  the  beginning  of 
November,  17 — . 

The  stranger  took  or  three  turns  round  the  room  in  silence, 
but  signed  to  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish  not  to  leave  it. 

Ill 


113  SIR    WAT.TER    SCOTT 

'Did  I  rightly  apprehend,'  he  said,  "that  the  estate  of  Ellan- 
gowan  is  in  the  market  ?' 

'In  the  market^ — it  will  be  sell'd  the  morn  to  the  highest 
bidder — that's  no  the  morn.  Lord  help  me  !  which  is  the  Sab- 
bath, but  on  Monday,  the  first  free  day;  and  the  furniture 
and  stocking  is  to  be  roupit  at  the  same  time  on  the  ground. 
It's  the  opinion  of  the  haill  country,  that  the  sale  has  been 
shamefully  forced  on  at  this  time,  when  there's  sae  little 
money  stirring  in  Scotland  wi'  this  weary  American  war, 
that  somebody  may  get  the  land  a  bargain — Deil  be  in  them, 
that  I  should  say  sae !' — the  good  lady's  wrath  rising  at  the 
supposed  injustice. 

'And  where  will  the  sale  take  place?' 

'On  the  premises,  as  the  advertisement  says — that's  at  the 
house  of  Ellangowan,  your  honour,  as  I  understand  it.' 

'And  who  exhibits  the  title-deeds,  rent-roll,  and  plan?' 

'A  very  decent  man,  sir ;  the  sheriff-substitute  of  the  county, 
who  has  authority  from  the  Court  of  Session.  He's  in  the 
town  just  now.  if  your  honour  would  like  to  see  him;  and  he 
can  tell  you  mair  about  the  loss  of  the  bairn  than  onybody, 
for  the  sheriff-depute  (that's  his  principal,  like)  took  much 
pains  to  come  at  the  truth  o'  that  matter,  as  I  have  heard.' 

'And  this  gentleman's  name  is — ■ — ' 

'Mac-Morlan,  sir, — he's  a  man  o'  character,  and  weel 
spoken  o'.' 

'Send  my  compliments — Colonel  Mannering's  compliments 
to  him,  and  I  would  be  glad  he  would  do  me  the  pleasure 
of  supping  with  me,  and  bring  these  papers  with  him — 
and  I  beg,  good  madam,  you  will  say  nothing  of  this  to 
any  one  else.' 

'Me,  sir?  ne'er  a  word  shall  I  say — I  wish  your  honour' 
(a  curtsy),  'or  ony  honourable  gentleman  that's  fought  for 
his  country'  (another  curtsy),  'had  the  land,  since  the  auld 
family  maun  quit'  (a  sigh),  'rathe.r  than  that  wily  scoundrel, 
Glossin,  that's  risen  on  the  ruin  of  the  best  friend  he  ever 
had — and  now  I  think  on't.  I'll  slip  on  my  hood  and  pattens, 
and  gang  to  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  mysell — he's  at  hame  e'en  now 
— it's  hardly  a  step.' 

'Do  so,  my  good  landlady,  and  many  thanks — and  bid  my 
servant  step' here  with  my  portfolio  in  the  meantime.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  118 

In  a  minute  or  two,  Colonel  Mannering  was  quietly  seated 
with  his  writing  materials  before  him.  We  have  the  privilege 
of  looking  over  his  shoulder  as  he  writes,  and  we  willingly 
communicate  its  substance  to  our  readers.  The  letter  was 
addressed  to  Arthur  Mervyn,  Esq.  of  Mervyn-Hall,  Llan- 
braithwaite,  Westmoreland.  It  contained  some  account  of 
the  writer's  previous  journey  since  parting  with  him,  and  then 
proceeded  as  follows : — 

'And  now,  why  will  you  still  upbraid  me  with  my  melancholy, 
Mervyn  ? — Do  you  think,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty-five  years,  battles, 
wounds,  imprisonment,  misfortunes  of  every  description,  I  can  be 
still  the  same  lively,  unbroken  Guy  Mannering,  who  climbed  Skiddaw 
with  you,  or  shot  grouse  upon  Crossfel?  That  you,  who  have  re- 
mained in  the  bosom  of  domestic  happiness,  experience  little  change, 
that  your  step  is  as  light  and  your  fancy  as  full  of  sunshine,  is  a 
blessed  effect  of  health  and  temperament,  co-operating  with  content 
and  a  smooth  current  do.n  the  course  of  life.  But  my  career  has 
been  one  of  difficulties,  and  doubts,  and  errors.  From  my  infancy 
1  have  been  the  sport  of  accident,  and  though  the  wind  has  often 
borne  me  into  harbour,  it  has  seldom  been  into  that  which  the  pilot 
destined.  Let  me  recall  to  you — but  the  task  must  be  brief — the  odd 
and  wayward  fates  of  my  youth,  and  the  misfortunes  of  my  manhood. 

'The  former,  you  will  say,  had  nothing  very  appalling.  All  was 
not  for  the  best ;  but  all  was  tolerable.  My  father,  the  eldest  son 
of  an  ancient  but  reduced  family,  left  me  with  little,  save  the  name 
of  the  head  of  the  house,  to  the  protection  of  his  more  fortunate 
brothers.  They  were  so  fond  of  me  that  they  almost  quarrelled  about 
me.  My  uncle,  the  bishop,  would  have  had  me  in  orders,  and  offered 
me  a  living — my  uncle,  the  merchant,  would  have  put  me  into  a 
counting-house,  and  proposed  to  give  me  a  share  in  the  thriving 
concern  of  Mannering  and  Marshall,  in  Lombard  Street. — So,  be- 
tween these  two  stools,  or  rather  these  two  soft,  easy,  well-stuffed 
chairs  of  divinity  and  commerce,  my  unfortunate  person  slipped  down, 
and  pitched  upon  a  dragoon  saddle.  Again,  the  bishop  wished  me 
to  marry  the  niece  and  heiress  of  the  Dean  of  Lincoln ;  and  my 
uncle,  the  alderman,  proposed  to  me  the  only  daughter  of  old  Sloe- 
thorn,  the  great  wine  merchant,  rich  enough  to  play  at  span-counter 
with  moidores,  and  make  thread-papers  of  bank-notes — and  somehow 
I  slipped  my  neck  out  of  both  nooses,  and  married — poor — poor 
Sophia  Wellwood. 

'You  will  say,  my  military  career  in  India,  when  T  followed  my 
regiment  there,  should  have  given  me  some  satisfaction ;  and  so  it 
assuredly  has.  You  will  remind  me  also,  that  if  I  disappointed  the 
hopes  of  my  guardians,  I  did  not  incur  their  displeasure ;  that  the 
bishop,  at  his  death,  bequeathed  me  his  blessing,  his  manuscript 
sermons,  and  a  curious  portfolio,  containing  the  heads  of  eminent 
divines   of   the    Church   of   England ;    and  that   my   uncle,    Sir    Paul 


11*  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Mannerlng,  left  me  sole  heir  and  executor  to  his  large  fortune. 
lYet  this  availeth  me  nothing:  I  told  you  I  had  that  upon  my  mind 
which  I  should  carry  to  my  grave  with  me— a  perpetual  aloes  in  the 
draught  of  existence.  I  will  tell  you  the  cause  more  in  detail  than 
I  had  the  heart  to  do  while  under  your  hospitable  roof.  You  will 
often  hear  it  mentioned,  and  perhaps  with  different  and  unfounded 
circumstances.  I  will  therefore  speak  it  out ;  and  then  let  the  event 
Itself,  and  the  sentiments  of  melancholy  with  which  it  has  impressed 
me,  never  again  be  subject  of  discussion  between  us. 

'Sophia,  as  you  well  know,  followed  me  to  India.  She  was  as 
innocent  as  gay;  but,  unfortunately  for  us  both,  as  gay  as  innocent. 
My  own  manners  were  partly  formed  by  studies  I  had  forsaken, 
and  habits  of  seclusion,  not  quite  consistent  with  my  situation  as 
commandant  of  a  regiment  in  a  country  where  universal  hospitality 
is  offered  and  expected  by  every  settler  claiming  the  rank  of  a 
gentleman.  In  a  moment  of  peculiar  pressure  (you  know  how  hard 
we  were  sometimes  run  to  obtain  white  faces  to  countenance  our 
Iine-of-battle),  a  young  man.  named  Brown,  joined  our  regiment 
as  a  volunteer,— and  finding  the  military  duty  more  to  his  fancy  than 
commerce,  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  remained  with  us  as  a 
cadet.  Let  me  do  my  unhappy  victim  justice — he  behaved  with  such 
gallantry  on  every  occasion  that  offered,  that  the  first  vacant  com- 
mission was  considered  as  his  due.  I  was  absent  for  some  weeks 
upon  a  distant  expedition ;  when  I  returned,  I  found  this  young 
fellow  established  quite  as  the  friend  of  the  house,  and  habitual 
attendant  of  my  wife  and  daughter.  It  was  an  arrangement  which 
displeased  me  in  many  particulars,  though  no  objection  could  be 
made  to  his  manners  or  character.  Yet  I  might  have  been  reconciled 
to  his  familiarity  in  my  family,  but  for  the  suggestions  of  another. 
If  you  read  over — what  I  never  dare  open — the  play  of  Othello,  you 
will  have  some  idea  of  what  followed — I  mean,  of  my  motives :  my 
actions,  thank  God !  were  less  reprehensible.  There  was  another 
cadet  ambitious  of  the  vacant  situation.  He  called  my  attention 
to  what  he  led  me  to  term  coquetry  between  my  wife  and  this  young 
man.  Sophia  was  virtuous,  but  proud  of  her  virtue;  and,  irritated 
by  my  jealousy,  she  was  so  imprudent  as  to  press  and  encourage 
an  intimacy  which  she  saw  I  disapproved  and  regarded  with  sus- 
picion. Between  Brown  and  me  there  existed  a  sort  of  internal 
dislike.  He  made  an  effort  or  two  to  overcome  my  prejudice;  but, 
prepossessed  as  I  was,  I  placed  them  to  a  wrong  motive.  Feeling 
himself  repulsed,  and  with  scorn,  he  desisted  ;  and  as  he  was  without 
family  and  friends,  he  was  naturally  more  watchful  of  the  deportment 
of  one  who  had  both. 

'It  is  odd  with  what  torture  I  write  this  letter.  I  feel  inclined, 
nevertheless,  to  protract  the  operation,  just  as  if  my  doing  so  could 
put  off  the  catastrophe  which  has  so  long  embittered  my  life.  But 
it  must  be  told,  and  it  shall  be  told  briefly. 

'My  wife,  though  no  longer  young,  was  still  eminently  handsome, 
and — let  me  say  thus  far  in  my  own  justification — she  was  fond  of 


I 


GUY    MANNERING  115 

being  thought  so — I  am  repeating  what  I  said  before. — In  a  word, 
of  her  virtue  I  never  entertained  a  doubt ;  but,  pushed  by  the  artful 
suggestions  of  Archer,  I  thought  she  cared  little  for  my  peace  of 
mind,  and  that  the  young  fellow,  Brown,  paid  his  attentions  in  my 
despite,  and  in  defiance  of  me.  He  perhaps  considered  me,  on  his 
part,  as  an  oppressive  aristocratic  man,  who  made  my  rank  in 
society,  and  in  the  army,  the  means  of  galling  those  whom  circum- 
stances placed  beneath  me.  And  if  he  discovered  my  silly  jealousy, 
he  probably  considered  the  fretting  me  in  that  sore  point  of  ray 
character,  as  one  means  of  avenging  the  petty  indignities  to  which 
I  had  it  in  my  power  to  subject  him.  Yet  an  acute  friend  of  mine 
gave  a  more  harmless,  or  at  least  a  less  offensive,  construction  to 
his  attentions,  which  he  conceived  to  be  meant  for  my  daughter 
Julia,  though  immediately  addressed  to  propitiate  the  influence  of 
her  mother.  This  could  have  been  no  very  flattering  or  pleasing 
enterprise  on  the  part  of  an  obscure  and  nameless  young  man ;  but 
I  should  not  have  been  offended  at  this  folly,  as  I  was  at  the  higher 
degree  of  presumption  I  suspected.  Offended,  however,  I  was,  and 
in  a  mortal  degree. 

'A  very  slight  spark  will  kindle  a  flame  where  everything  lies 
open  to  catch  it.  I  have  absolutely  forgot  the  proximate  cause  of 
quarrel,  but  it  was  some  trifle  which  occurred  at  the  card-table, 
which  occasioned  high  words  and  a  challenge.  We  met  in  the 
morning  beyond  the  walls  and  esplanade  of  the  fortress  which  I 
then  commanded,  on  the  frontiers  of  the  settlement.  This  was 
arranged  for  Brown's  safety,  had  he  escaped.  I  almost  wish  he  had, 
though  at  my  own  expense ;  but  he  fell  by  the  first  fire.  We  strove 
to  assist  him ;  but  some  of  these  Looties,  a  species  of  native  banditti 
who  were  always  on  the  watch  for  prey,  poured  in  upon  us.  Archer 
and  I  gained  our  horses  with  difficulty,  and  cut  our  way  through 
them  after  a  hard  conflict,  in  the  course  of  which  he  received  some 
desperate  wounds.  To  complete  the  misfortunes  of  this  miserable 
day,  my  wife,  who  suspected  the  design  with  which  I  left  the  fortress, 
had  ordered  her  palanquin  to  follow  me,  and  was  alarmed  and  almost 
made  prisoner  by  another  troop  of  these  plunderers.  She  was 
quickly  released  by  a  party  of  our  cavalry ;  but  I  cannot  disguise 
from  myself,  that  the  incidents  of  this  fatal  morning  gave  a  severe 
shock  to  health  already  delicate.  The  confession  of  Archer,  who 
thought  himself  dying,  that  he  had  invented  some  circumstances, 
and,  for  his  purposes,  put  the  worst  construction  upon  others,  and 
the  full  explanation  and  exchange  of  forgiveness  with  me  which 
this  produced,  could  not  check  the  progress  of  her  disorder.  She 
died  within  about  eight  months  after  this  incident,  bequeathing  me 
only  the  girl,  of  whom  Mrs.  Mervyn  is  so  good  as  to  undertake  the 
temporary  charge.  Julia  was  also  extremely  ill ;  so  much  so,  that 
I  was  induced  to  throw  up  my  command  and  return  to  Europe,  where 
her  native  air,  time,  and  the  novelty  of  the  scenes  around  her,  have 
contributed  to  dissipate  her  dejection,  and  restore  her  health. 

'Now  that  you  know  my  story,  you  will  no  longer  ask  me  the  reason 
of  my  melancholy,  but  permit  me  to  brood  upon  it  as  I  may.     There 


116  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

is,  surely,  in  the  above  narrative,  enough  to  embitter,  though  not  to 
poison,  the  chalice,  which  the  fortune  and  fame  you  so  often  mention 
had  prepared  to  regale  my  years  of  retirement. 

'I  could  add  circumstances  which  our  old  tutor  would  have  quoted 
as  instances  of  day  fatality, — you  would  laugh  were  I  to  mention  such 
particulars,  especially  as  you  know  I  put  no  faith  in  them.  Yet, 
since  I  have  come  to  the  very  house  from  which  I  now  write,  I 
have  learned  a  singular  coincidence,  which,  if  I  find  it  truly  estab- 
lished by  tolerable  evidence,  will  serve  us  hereafter  for  subject  of 
curious  discussion.  But  I  will  spare  you  at  present,  as  I  expect  a 
person  to  speak  about  a  purchase  of  property  now  open  in  this  part 
of  the  country.  It  is  a  place  to  which  I  have  a  foolish  partiality, 
and  I  hope  my  purchasing  may  be  convenient  to  those  who  are 
parting  with  it,  as  there  is  a  plan  for  buying  it  under  the  value.  My 
respectful  compliments  to  Mrs.  Mervyn,  and  I  will  trust  you,  though 
you  boast  to  be  so  lively  a  young  gentleman,  to  kiss  Julia  for  me. 
— Adieu,  dear  Mervyn. — Thine  ever, 

'Guy  Mannering.' 

Mr.  Mac-Morlan  now  entered  the  room.  The  well-known 
character  of  Colonel  Mannering  at  once  disposed  this  gentle- 
man, who  was  a  man  of  intelligence  and  probity,  to  be  open 
and  confidential.  He  explained  the  advantages  and  disad- 
vantages of  the  property.  'It  was  settled/  he  said,  'the  greater 
part  of  it  at  least,  upon  heirs-male,  and  the  purchaser  would 
have  the  privilege  of  retaining  in  his  hands  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  price,  in  case  of  the  reappearance,  within  a  certain 
limited  term,  of  the  child  who  had  disappeared.' 

'To  what  purpose,  then,  force  forward  a  sale?'  said 
Mannering. 

Mac-Morlan  smiled.  'Ostensibly,'  he  answered,  'to  substi- 
tute the  interest  of  money,  instead  of  the  ill-paid  and  pre- 
carious rents  of  an  unimproved  estate;  but  chiefly,  it  was 
believed,  to  suit  the  wishes  and  views  of  a  certain  intended 
purchaser,  who  had  become  a  principal  creditor,  and  forced 
himself  into  the  management  of  the  affairs  by  means  best 
known  to  himself,  and  who,  it  was  thought,  would  find  it 
very  convenient  to  purchase  the  estate  without  paying  down 
the  price.' 

Mannering  consulted  with  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  upon  the  steps 
for  thwarting  this  unprincipled  attempt.  They  then  conversed 
long  on  the  singular  disappearance  of  Harry  Bertram  upon 
his  fifth  birthday,  verifying  thus  the  random  prediction  of 
Mannering,  of  which,  however,  it  will  readily  be  supposed 


GUY    MANXERING  117 

he  made  no  boast.  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  was  not  himself  in  office 
when  that  incident  took  place ;  but  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  circumstances,  and  promised  that  our  hero  should 
have  them  detailed  by  the  sheriff-depute  himself,  if,  as  he 
proposed,  he  should  become  a  settler  in  that  part  of  Scot- 
land. With  this  assurance  they  parted,  well  satisfied  with 
each  other  and  with  the  evening's  conference. 

On  the  Sunday  following.  Colonel  Mannering  attended  the 
parish  church  with  great  decorum.  None  of  the  Ellangowan 
family  were  present ;  and  it  was  understood  that  the  old 
Laird  was  rather  worse  than  better.  Jock  Jabos,  once  more 
dispatched  for  him,  returned  once  more  without  his  errand : 
but  on  the  following  day  Miss  Bertram  hoped  he  might  be 
removed. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

They  told  me,  by  the  sentence  of  the  law, 
They  had  commission  to  seize  all  thy  fortune. — 
Here   stood   a   ruffian   with   a   horrid   face, 
Lording  it  o'er  a  pile  of  massy  plate, 
Tumbled  into  a  heap   for  public  sale  ; — 
There,  was  another,   making  villanous  jests 
At  thy  undoing;  he  had  ta'en  possession 
Of  all   thy   ancient   most  domestic  ornaments. 

Otway. 

EARLY  next  morning,  Mannering  mounted  his  horse, 
and  accompanied  by  his  servant,  took  the  road  to  El- 
langowan.  He  had  no  need  to  inquire  the  way.  A 
sale  in  the  country  is  a  place  of  public  resort  and  amusement, 
and  people  of  various  descriptions  streamed  to  it  from  all 
quarters. 

After  a  pleasant  ride  of  about  an  hour,  the  old  towers  of 
the  ruin  presented  themselves  in  the  landscape.  The  thoughts 
with  what  different  feeling  he  had  lost  sight  of  them  so 
many  years  before,  thronged  upon  the  mind  of  the  traveller. 
The  landscape  was  the  same;  but  how  changed  the  feelings, 
hopes,  and  views,  of  the  spectator !  Then,  life  and  love  were 
new,  and  all  the  prospect  was  gilded  by  their  rays.  And  now, 
disappointed  in  affection,  sated  with  fame,  and  what  the 
world  calls  success,  his  mind  goaded  by  bitter  and  repentant 
recollection,  his  best  hope  was  to  find  a  retirement  in  which 
he  might  nurse  the  melancholy  that  was  to  accompany  him 
to  his  grave.  'Yet  why  should  an  individual  mourn  over  the 
instability  of  his  hopes,  and  the  vanity  of  his  prospects? 
The  ancient  chiefs,  who  erected  these  enormous  and  massive 
towers  to  be  the  fortress  of  their  race,  and  the  seat  of  their 
power, — could  they  have  dreamed  the  day  was  to  come,  when 
the  last  of  their  descendants  should  be  expelled,  a  ruined 
wanderer,  from  his  possessions !  But  Nature's  bounties  are 
unaltered.  The  sun  will  shine  as  fair  on  these  ruins,  whether 
the  property  of  a  stranger  or  of  a  sordid  and  obscure  trickster 

118 


GUY    MANNERING  119 

of  the  abused  law,  as  when  the  banners  of  the  founder  first 
waved  upon  their  battlements.' 

These  reflections  brought  Mannering  to  the  door  of  the 
house,  which  was  that  day  open  to  all.  He  entered  among 
others,  who  traversed  the  apartments — some  to  select  articles 
for  purchase,  others  to  gratify  their  curiosity.  There  is 
something  melancholy  in  such  a  scene,  even  under  the  most 
favourable  circumstances.  The  confused  state  of  the  furni- 
ture, displaced  for  the  convenience  of  being  easily  viewed 
and  carried  off  by  the  purchasers,  is  disagreeable  to  the 
eye. 

Those  articles  which,  properly  and  decently  arranged,  look 
creditable  and  handsome,  have  then  a  paltry  and  wretched 
appearance;  and  the  apartments,  stripped  of  all  that  render 
them  commodious  and  comfortable,  have  an  aspect  of  ruin 
and  dilapidation.  It  is  disgusting,  also,  to  see  the  scenes  of 
domestic  society  and  ,  eclusion  thrown  open  to  the  gaze  of 
the  curious  and  the  vulgar ;  to  hear  their  coarse  speculations 
and  brutal  jests  upon  the  fashions  and  furniture  to  which 
they  are  unaccustomed, — a  frolicsome  humour  much  cherished 
by  the  whisky  which  in  Scotland  is  always  put  in  circulation 
on  such  occasions.  All  these  are  ordinary  effects  of  such  a 
scene  as  Ellangowan  now  presented ;  but  the  moral  feeling, 
that,  in  this  case,  they  indicated  the  total  ruin  of  an  an- 
cient and  honourable  family,  gave  them  treble  weight  and 
poignancy. 

It  was  some  time  before  Colonel  Mannering  could  find 
any  one  disposed  to  answer  his  reiterated  questions  concern- 
ing Ellangowan  himself.  At  length  an  old  maid-servant 
who  held  her  apron  to  her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  told  him,  'the 
Laird  was  something  better,  and  they  hoped  he  would  be 
able  to  leave  the  house  that  day.  Miss  Lucy  expected  the 
chaise  every  moment,  and,  as  the  day  was  fine  for  the  time 
o'  year,  they  had  carried  him  in  his  easy  chair  up  to  the 
green  before  the  auld  castle,  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  this 
unco  spectacle.'  Hither  Colonel  Mannering  went  in  quest 
of  him,  and  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  little  group,  which  con- 
sisted of  four  persons.  The  ascent  was  steep,  so  that  he 
had  time  to  reconnoitre  them  as  he  advanced,  and  to  consider 
in  what  mode  he  should  make  his  address. 


120  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Mr.  Bertram,  paralytic,  and  almost  incapable  of  moving, 
occupied  his  easy  chair,  attired  in  his  night-cap  and  a  loose 
camlet  coat,  his  feet  wrapped  in  blankets.  Behind  him, 
with  his  hands  crossed  on  the  cane  upon  which  he  rested, 
stood  Dominie  Sampson,  whom  Mannering  recognized  at 
once.  Time  had  made  no  change  upon  him,  unless  that  his 
black  coat  seemed  more  brown,  and  his  gaunt  cheeks  more 
lank,  than  when  Mannering  last  saw  him.  On  one  side  of 
the  old  man  was  a  sylph-like  form — a  young  woman  of  about 
seventeen,  whom  the  Colonel  accounted  to  be  his  daughter. 
She  was  looking,  from  time  to  time,  anxiously  towards  the 
avenue,  as  if  expecting  a  post-chaise;  and  between-whiles 
busied  herself  in  adjusting  the  blankets,  so  as  to  protect 
her  father  from  the  cold,  and  in  answering  inquiries  which  he 
seemed  to  make  with  a  captious  and  querulous  manner.  She 
did  not  trust  herself  to  look  towards  the  Place,  although  the 
hum  of  the  assembled  crowd  must  have  drawn  her  attention 
in  that  direction.  The  fourth  person  of  the  group  was  a 
handsome  and  genteel  young  man,  who  seemed  to  share  Miss 
Bertram's  anxiety,  and  her  solicitude  to  soothe  and  accom- 
modate her  parent. 

This  young  man  was  the  first  who  observed  Colonel  Man- 
nering, and  immediately  stepped  forward  to  meet  him,  as  if 
politely  to  prevent  his  drawing  nearer  to  the  distressed  group. 
Mannering  instantly  paused,  and  explained.  'He  was,'  he 
said,  'a  stranger,  to  whom  Mr.  Bertram  had  formerly  shown 
kindness  and  hospitality;  he  would  not  have  intruded  him- 
self upon  him  at  a  period  of  distress,  did  it  not  seem  to  be 
in  some  degree  a  moment  also  of  desertion ;  he  wished  merely 
to  offer  such  services  as  might  be  in  his  power  to  Mr.  Ber- 
tram and  the  young  lady.' 

He  then  paused  at  a  little  distance  from  the  chair.  His 
old  acquaintance  gazed  at  him  with  lack-lustre  eye,  that  in- 
timated no  tokens  of  recognition — the  Dominie  seemed  too 
deeply  sunk  in  distress  even  to  observe  his  presence.  The 
young  man  spoke  aside  with  Miss  Bertram,  who  advanced 
timidly,  and  thanked  Colonel  Mannering  for  his  goodness; 
'but,'  she  said,  the  tears  gushing  fast  into  her  eyes,  'her 
father,  she  feared,  was  not  so  much  himself  as  to  be  able 
to  remember  him.' 


i 


GUY    MANNERING  121 

She  then  retreated  towards  the  chair,  accompanied  by  the 
Colonel. — 'Father,'  she  said,  'this  is  Mr,  Mannering,  an  old 
friend,  come  to  inquire  after  you.' 

'He's  very  heartily  welcome,'  said  the  old  man,  raising  him- 
self in  his  chair,  and  attempting  a  gesture  of  courtesy,  while 
a  gleam  of  hospitable  satisfaction  seemed  to  pass  over  his 
faded  features. — 'But,  Lucy,  my  dear,  let  us  go  down  to  the 
house ;  you  should  not  keep  the  gentleman  here  in  the  cold. — 
Dominie,  take  the  key  of  the  wine  cooler.  Mr.  a — a — the 
gentleman  will  surely  take  something  after  his  ride.' 

Mannering  was  unspeakably  affected  by  the  contrast  which 
his  recollection  made  between  this  reception  and  that  with 
which  he  had  been  greeted  by  the  same  individual  when  they 
last  met.  He  could  not  restrain  his  tears,  and  his  evident 
emotion  at  once  attained  him  the  confidence  of  the  friendless 
young  lady. 

'Alas!'  she  said,  'this  is  distressing  even  to  a  stranger; 
but  it  may  be  better  for  my  poor  father  to  be  in  this  way, 
than  if  he  knew  and  could  feel  all.' 

A  servant  in  livery  now  came  up  the  path,  and  spoke  in 
an  undertone  to  the  young  gentleman : — 'Mr.  Charles,  my 
lady's  wanting  you  yonder  sadly,  to  bid  for  her  for  the  black 
ebony  cabinet;  and  Lady  Jean  Devorgoil  is  wi'  her  an'  a' — 
ye  maun  come  away  directly.' 

'Tell  them  you  could  not  find  me,  Tom; — or  stay, — say 
I  am  looking  at  the  horses.' 

'No,  no,  no,'  said  Lucy  Bertram,  earnestly; — 'if  you  would 
not  add  to  the  misery  of  this  miserable  moment,  go  to  the 
company  directly.  This  gentleman,  I  am  sure,  will  see  us 
to  the  carriage.' 

'Unquestionably,  madam,'  said  Mannering;  'your  young 
friend  may  rely  on  my  attention.' 

'Farewell  then,'  said  young  Hazlewood,  and  whispered  a 
word  in  her  ear — and  ran  down  the  steep  hastily,  as  if  not 
trusting  his  resolution  at  a  slower  pace. 

'Where's  Charles  Hazlewood  running?'  said  the  invalid, 
who  apparently  was  accustomed  to  his  presence  and  atten- 
tions; 'where's  Charles  Hazlewood  running? — what  takes  him 
away  now?' 

'He'll  return  in  a  little  while,'  said  Lucy,  gently. 


122  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

The  sound  of  voices  was  now  heard  from  the  ruins.  (The 
reader  may  remember  there  was  a  communication  between 
the  castle  and  the  beach,  up  which  the  speakers  had  ascended.) 

'Yes,  there's  plenty  of  shells  and  sea-ware  for  manure, 
as  you  observe — and  if  one  inclined  to  build  a  new  house, 
which  might  indeed  be  necessary,  there's  a  great  deal  of 
good  hewn  stone  about  this  old  dungeon  for  the  devil 
here — ' 

'Good  God !'  said  Miss  Bertram  hastily  to  Sampson,  "tis 
that  wretch  Glossin's  voice  ! — if  my  father  sees  him,  it  will 
kill  him  outright !' 

Sampson  wheeled  perpendicularly  round,  and  moved  with 
long  strides  to  confront  the  attorney,  as  he  issued  from 
beneath  the  portal  arch  of  the  ruin.  'Avoid  ye  !'  he  said — 
'Avoid  ye !  wouldst  thou  kill  and  take  possession  ?' 

'Come,  come,  Master  Dominie  Sampson,'  answered  Glos- 
sin,  insolently,  'if  ye  cannot  preach  in  the  pulpit,  we'll  have 
no  preaching  here.  We  go  by  the  law,  my  good  friend ;  we 
leave  the  gospel  to  you.' 

The  very  mention  of  this  man's  name  had  been  of  late 
a  subject  of  the  most  violent  irritation  to  the  unfortunate 
patient.  The  sound  of  his  voice  now  produced  an  instan- 
taneous effect.  Mr.  Bertram  started  up  without  assistance, 
and  turned  round  towards  him;  the  ghastliness  of  his  fea- 
tures forming  a  strange  contrast  with  the  violence  of  his 
exclamations. — 'Out  of  my  sight,  yc  viper !  ye  frozen  viper, 
that  I  warmed  till  ye  stung  me ! — art  thou  not  afraid  that  the 
walls  of  my  father's  dwelling  should  fall  and  crush  thee 
limb  and  bone? — are  ye  not  afraid  the  very  lintels  of  the 
door  of  Ellangowan  castle  should  break  open  and  swallow  you 
up? — Were  ye  not  friendless, — houseless, — penniless, — when 
I  took  ye  by  the  hand — and  are  ye  not  expelling  me — me, 
and  that  innocent  girl — friendless,  houseless,  and  penniless, 
from  the  house  that  has  sheltered  us  and  ours  for  a  thousand 
years?' 

Had  Glossin  been  alone,  he  would  probably  have  slunk 
off;  but  the  consciousness  that  a  stranger  was  present,  be- 
sides the  person  who  came  with  him  (a  sort  of  land-sur- 
veyor), determined  him  to  resort  to  impudence.  The  task, 
however,  was  almost  too  hard,  even  for  his  effrontery. — 


GUY    MANNERIXG  123 

'Sir — Sir — Mr.  Bertram — Sir,  you  should  not  blame  me,  but 
your  own  imprudence,  sir — ' 

The  indignation  of  Mannering  was  mounting  very  high. 
'vSir,'  he  said  to  Glossin,  'without  entering  into  the  merits  of 
this  controversy,  I  must  inform  you,  that  you  have  chosen  a 
very  improper  place,  time,  and  presence  for  it.  And  you  will 
oblige  me  by  withdrawing  without  more  words.' 

Glossin,  being  a  tall,  strong,  muscular  man,  was  not  un- 
willing rather  to  turn  upon  a  stranger  whom  he  hoped  to 
bully,  than  maintain  his  wretched  cause  against  his  injured 
patron : — 'I  do  not  know  who  you  are,  sir,'  he  said,  'and  I 
shall  permit  no  man  to  use  such  d — d  freedom  with  me.' 

Mannering  was  naturally  hot-tempered — his  eyes  flashed 
a  dark  light — he  compressed  his  nether  lip  so  closely  that  the 
blood  sprung,  and  approaching  Glossin — 'Look  you,  sir,'  he 
said,  'that  you  do  not  know  me,  is  of  little  consequence.  / 
knozv  yoii;  and,  if  yoa  do  not  instantly  descend  that  bank, 
without  uttering  a  single  syllable,  by  the  Heaven  that  is 
above  us,  you  should  make  but  one  step  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom!' 

The  commanding  tone  of  rightful  anger  silenced  at  once 
the  ferocity  of  the  bully.  He  hesitated,  turned  on  his  heel, 
and,  muttering  something  between  his  teeth  about  unwilling- 
ness to  alarm  the  lady,  relieved  them  of  his  hateful  com- 
pany. 

Mrs.  Mac-Candlish's  postilion,  who  had  come  up  in  time 
to  hear  what  passed,  said  aloud,  'If  he  had  stuck  by  the  way, 
I  would  have  lent  him  a  heczie.  the  dirty  scoundrel,  as 
willingly  as  ever  I  pitched  a  boddle.' 

He  then  stepped  forward  to  announce  that  his  horses  were 
in  readiness  for  the  invalid  and  his  daughter. 

But  they  were  no  longer  necessary.  The  debilitated  frame 
of  Mr.  Bertram  was  exhausted  by  this  last  effort  of  indignant 
anger,  and  when  he  sunk  again  upon  his  chair,  he  expired 
almost  without  a  struggle  or  groan.  So  little  alteration  did 
the  extinction  of  the  vital  spark  make  upon  his  external  ap- 
pearance, that  the  screams  of  his  daughter,  when  she  saw  his 
eye  fix  and  felt  his  pulse  stop,  first  announced  his  death  to 
the  spectators. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  bell  strikes  one. — We,  take  no  note  of  time 
But  from  its  loss.     To  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man.     As  if  an  angel  spoke, 
I  feel  the  solemn  sound. 

Young. 

THE  moral  which  the  poet  has  rather  quaintly  deduced 
from  the  necessary  mode  of  measuring  time,  may  be 
well  applied  to  our  feelings  respecting  that  portion  of 
it  which  constitutes  human  life.  We  observe  the  aged,  the 
infirm,  and  those  engaged  in  occupations  of  immediate  haz- 
ard, trembling  as  it  were  upon  the  very  brink  of  non-exist- 
ence, but  we  derive  no  lesson  from  the  precariousness  of  their 
tenure  until  it  has  altogether  failed.  Then,  for  a  moment 
at  least, 

Our  hopes  and  fears 
Start  up   alarmed,   and   o'er  life's  narrow  verge 
Look   down — On   what  ? — a   fathomless   abyss, 
A  dark  eternity, — how  surely  ours  ! 

The  crowd  of  assembled  gazers  and  idlers  at  Ellangowan 
had  followed  the  views  of  amusement,  or  what  they  called 
business,  which  brought  them  there,  with  little  regard  to 
the  feelings  of  those  who  were  suffering  upon  that  occasion. 
Few,  indeed,  knew  anything  of  the  family.  The  father, 
betwixt  seclusion,  misfortune,  and  imbecility,  had  drifted,  as 
it  were,  for  many  years,  out  of  the  notice  of  his  contem- 
poraries— the  daughter  had  never  been  known  to  them. 
But  when  the  general  murmur  announced  that  the  unfortu- 
nate Mr.  Bertram  had  broken  his  heart  in  the  effort  to  leave 
the  mansion  of  his  forefathers,  there  poured  forth  a  torrent 
of  sympathy,  like  the  waters  from  the  rock  when  stricken 
by  the  wand  of  the  prophet.  The  ancient  descent  and  un- 
blemished integrity  of  the  family  were  respectfully  remem- 
bered ; — above  all,  the  sacred  veneration  due  to  misfortune, 
which  in  Scotland  seldom  demands  its  tribute  in  vain,  then 
claimed  and  received  it. 

124 


GUY    MANNERIXG  125 

Mr.  Mac-Morlan  hastily  announced  that  he  would  suspend 
all  further  proceedings  in  the  sale  of  the  estate  and  other 
property,  and  relinquish  the  possession  of  the  premises  to  the 
young  lady,  until  she  could  consult  with  her  friends,  and  pro- 
vide for  the  burial  of  her  father. 

Glossin  had  cowered  for  a  few  minutes  under  the  general 
expression  of  sympathy,  till,  hardened  by  observing  that  no 
appearance  of  popular  indignation  was  directed  his  way,  he 
had  the  audacity  to  require  that  the  sale  should  proceed. 

'I  will  take  it  upon  my  own  authority  to  adjourn  it,'  said 
the  sheriff-substitute,  'and  will  be  responsible  for  the  conse- 
quences. I  will  also  give  due  notice  when  it  is  again  to  go 
forward.  It  is  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned  that  the  lands 
should  bring  the  highest  price  the  state  of  the  market  will 
admit,  and  this  is  surely  no  time  to  expect  it — I  will  take  the 
responsibility  upon  myself.' 

Glossin  left  the  roo.  i.  and  the  house  too,  with  secrecy  and 
dispatch ;  and  it  was  probably  well  for  him  that  he  did  so, 
since  our  friend  Jock  Jabos  was  already  haranguing  a  numer- 
ous tribe  of  bare-legged  boys  on  the  propriety  of  pelting  him 
off  the  estate. 

Some  of  the  rooms  were  hastily  put  in  order  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the  young  lady,  and  of  her  father's  dead  body.  Man- 
nering  now  found  his  further  interference  would  be  unneces- 
sary, and  might  be  misconstrued.  He  observed,  too,  that 
several  families  connected  with  that  of  Ellangowan,  and  who 
indeed  derived  their  principal  claim  of  gentility  from  the  alli- 
ance, were  now  disposed  to  pay  to  their  trees  of  genealogy  a 
tribute,  which  the  adversity  of  their  supposed  relatives  had 
been  inadequate  to  call  forth ;  and  that  the  honour  of  super- 
intending the  funeral  rites  of  the  dead  Godfrey  Bertram  (as 
in  the  memorable  case  of  Homer's  birthplace)  was  likely  to 
be  debated  by  seven  gentlemen  of  rank  and  fortune,  none 
of  whom  had  offered  him  an  asylum  while  living.  He  there- 
fore resolved,  as  his  presence  was  altogether  useless,  to 
make  a  short  tour  of  a  fortnight,  at  the  end  of  which 
period  the  adjourned  sale  of  the  estate  of  Ellangowan  was 
to  proceed. 

But  before  he  departed,  he  solicited  an  interview  with  the 
Dominie.    The  poor  man  appeared,  on  being  informed  a  gen- 


126  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

tieman  wanted  to  speak  to  him,  with  some  expression  of  sur- 
prise in  his  gaunt  features,  to  which  recent  sorrow  had  given 
an  expression  yet  more  grisly.  He  made  two  or  three  pro- 
found reverences  to  Mannering,  and  then,  standing  erect, 
patiently  waited  an  explanation  of  his  commands. 

'You  are  probably  at  a  loss  to  guess,  Mr.  Sampson,'  said 
Mannering,  'what  a  stranger  may  have  to  say  to  you  ?' 

'Unless  it  were  to  request  that  I  would  undertake  to  train 
up  some  youth  in  polite  letters,  and  humane  learning — But 
I  cannot — I  cannot — I  have  yet  a  task  to  perform.' 

'No,  Mr.  Sampson,  my  wishes  are  not  so  ambitious.  I  have 
no  son,  and  my  only  daughter,  I  presume,  you  would  not  con- 
sider as  a  fit  pupil.' 

'Of  a  suret}^  no,'  replied  the  simple-minded  Sampson. 
'Natheless,  it  was  I  who  did  educate  Miss  Lucy  in  all 
useful  learning, — albeit  it  was  the  housekeeper  who  did 
teach  her  those  unprofitable  exercises  of  hemming  and 
shaping.' 

'Well,  sir,'  replied  Mannering,  'it  is  of  Miss  Lucy  I  meant 
to  speak — you  have,  I  presume,  no  recollection  of  me?' 

Sampson,  always  sufficiently  absent  in  mind,  neither  re- 
membered the  astrologer  of  past  years,  nor  even  the  stranger 
who  had  taken  his  patron's  part  against  Glossin,  so  much 
had  his  friend's  sudden  death  embroiled  his  ideas. 

'Well,  that  does  not  signify,'  pursued  the  Colonel;  'I  am 
an  old  acquaintance  of  the  late  Mr.  Bertram,  able  and  willing 
to  assist  his  daughter  in  her  present  circumstances.  Besides, 
I  have  thoughts  of  making  this  purchase,  and  I  should  wish 
things  kept  in  order  about  the  place :  will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  apply  this  small  sum  in  the  usual  family  expenses?' — 
He  put  into  the  Dominie's  hand  a  purse  containing  some 
gold. 

'Pro-di-gi-ous !'  exclaimed  Dominie  Sampson.  'But  if  your 
honour  would  tarry ' 

'Impossible,  sir — impossible,'  said  Mannering,  making  his 
escape   from  him. 

'Pro-di-gi-ous !'  again  exclaimed  Sampson,  following  to 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  still  holding  out  the  purse.  'But  as 
touching  this  coined  money ' 

Mannering  escaped  downstairs  as  fast  as  possible. 


GUY    MANNERING  127 

'Pro-di-gi-ous !'  exclaimed  Dominie  Sampson,  yet  the  third 
time,  now  standing  at  the  front  door.  "But  as  touching  this 
specie ' 

But  Mannering  was  now  on  horseback  and  out  of  hearing. 
The  Dominie,  who  had  never,  either  in  his  own  right  or  as 
trustee  for  another,  been  possessed  of  a  quarter  part  of  this 
sum.  though  it  was  not  above  twenty  guineas,  'took  counsel,' 
as  he  expressed  himself,  '  how  he  should  demean  himself  with 
respect  unto  the  fine  gold'  thus  left  in  his  charge.  Fortu- 
nately he  found  a  disinterested  adviser  in  Mac-Morlan, 
who  pointed  out  the  most  proper  means  of  disposing  of  it 
for  contributing  to  Miss  Bertram's  convenience,  being  no 
doubt  the  purpose  to  which  it  was  destined  by  the  be- 
stower. 

Many  of  the  neighbouring  gentry  were  now  sincerely  eager 
in  pressing  offers  of  Iv^spitality  and  kindness  upon  Miss  Ber- 
tram. But  she  felt  a  natural  reluctance  to  enter  any  family 
for  the  first  time,  as  an  object  rather  of  benevolence  than 
hospitality,  and  determined  to  wait  the  opinion  and  advice 
of  her  father's  nearest  female  relation,  Mrs.  Margaret  Ber- 
tram of  Singleside,  an  old  unmarried  lady,  to  whom  she 
wrote  an  account  of  her  present  distressful  situation. 

The  funeral  of  the  late  Mr.  Bertram  was  performed  with 
decent  privacy,  and  the  unfortunate  young  lady  was  now  to 
consider  herself  as  but  the  temporary  tenant  of  the  house  in 
which  she  had  been  born,  and  where  her  patience  and  sooth- 
ing attentions  had  so  long  'rocked  the  cradle  of  declining  age.' 
Her  communication  with  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  encouraged  her 
to  hope  that  she  would  not  be  suddenly  or  unkindly  deprived 
of  this  asylum — But  fortune  had  ordered  otherwise. 

For  two  days  before  the  appointed  day  for  the  sale  of  the 
lands  and  estate  of  Ellangowan,  Mac-Morlan  daily  expected 
the  appearance  of  Colonel  Mannering,  or  at  least  a  letter 
containing  powers  to  act  for  him.  But  none  such  arrived. 
Mr.  Mac-Morlan  waked  early  in  the  morning — walked  over 
to  the  Post-office — there  were  no  letters  for  him.  He  en- 
deavored to  persuade  himself  that  he  should  see  Colonel 
Mannering  to  breakfast,  and  ordered  his  wife  to  place  her 
best  china  and  prepare  herself  accordingly.  But  the  prep- 
arations were  in  vain.    'Could  I  have  foreseen  this/  he  said. 


138  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'I  would  have  travelled  Scotland  over,  but  I  would  have 
found  some  one  to  bid  against  Glossin.' — Alas !  such  reflec- 
tions were  all  too  late.  The  appointed  hour  arrived ;  and  the 
parties  met  in  the  Masons'  Lodge  at  Kippletringan,  being  the 
place  fixed  for  the  adjourned  sale.  Mac-Morlan  spent  as 
much  time  in  preliminaries  as  decency  would  permit,  and 
read  over  the  articles  of  sale  as  slowly  as  if  he  had  been 
reading  his  own  death-warrant.  He  turned  his  eye  every 
time  the  door  of  the  room  opened,  with  hopes  which  grew 
fainter  and  fainter.  He  listened  to  every  noise  in  the  street 
of  the  village,  and  endeavoured  to  distinguish  in  it  the  sound 
of  hoofs  or  wheels.  It  was  all  in  vain.  A  bright  idea  then 
occurred,  that  Colonel  Mannering  might  have  employed  some 
other  person  in  the  transaction :  he  would  not  have  wasted  a 
moment's  thought  upon  the  want  of  confidence  in  himself 
which  such  a  manoeuvre  would  have  evinced.  But  this  hope 
also  was  groundless.  After  a  solemn  pause,  Mr.  Glossin  of- 
fered the  upset  price  for  the  lands  and  barony  of  Ellangowan. 
No  reply  was  made,  and  no  competitor  appeared;  so,  after  a 
lapse  of  the  usual  interval  by  the  running  of  a  sand-glass, 
upon  the  intended  purchaser  entering  the  proper  securities, 
Mr.  Mac-Morlan  v/as  obliged,  in  technical  terms,  to  'find  and 
declare  the  sale  lawfully  completed,  and  to  prefer  the  said 
Gilbert  Glossin  as  the  purchaser  of  the  said  lands  and  estate.' 
The  honest  writer  refused  to  partake  of  a  splendid  entertain- 
ment with  which  Gilbert  Glossin,  Esquire,  now  of  Ellan- 
gowan, treated  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  returned  home 
in  huge  bitterness  of  spirit,  which  he  vented  in  complaints 
against  the  fickleness  and  caprice  of  these  Indian  nabobs, 
who  never  knew  what  they  would  be  at  for  ten  days  together. 
Fortune  generously  determined  to  take  the  blame  upon 
herself,  and  cut  off  even  this  vent  of  Mac-Morlan's  resent- 
ment. 

An  express  arrived  about  six  o'clock  at  night,  'very  partic- 
ularly drunk'  the  maid-servant  said,  with  a  packet  from 
Colonel  Mannering,  dated  four  days  back  at  a  town  about  a 
hundred  miles'  distance  from  Kippletringan,  containing  full 
powers  to  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  or  any  one  whom  he  might  em- 
ploy, to  make  the  intended  purchase,  and  stating  that  some 
family  business  of  consequence  called  the  Colonel  himself  to 


GUY    MANNERING  129 

Westmoreland,  where  a  letter  would  find  him,  addressed  to 
the  care  of  Arthur  Mervyn,  Esq.,  of  Mervyn  Hall. 

Mac-Morlan,  in  the  transports  of  his  wrath,  flung  the 
power  of  attorney  at  the  head  of  the  innocent  maid-servant, 
and  was  only  forcibly  withheld  from  horse-whipping  the  ras- 
cally messenger,  by  whose  sloth  and  drunkenness  the  dis- 
appointment had  taken  place. 


CHAPTER  XV 

My  gold  is  gone,  my  money  is  spent, 

My  land  now  take  it  unto  thee. 
Give  me  thy  gold,  good  John  o'  the  Scales, 

And  thine  for  aye  my  land  shall  be. 

Then  John  he  did  him  to  record  draw, 
And  John  he  caste  him  a  god's-pennie ; 

But  for  every  pounde  that  John  agreed, 
The  land,  I  wis,  was  well  worth  three. 

Heir  of  Linne. 

THE  Galwegian  John  o'  the  Scales  was  a  more  clever 
fellow  than  his  prototype.  He  contrived  to  make  him- 
self heir  of  Linne  without  the  disagreeable  ceremony 
of  'telling  down  the  good  red  gold.'  Miss  Bertram  no  sooner 
heard  this  painful,  and  of  late  unexpected  intelligence,  than 
she  proceeded  in  the  preparations  she  had  already  made  for 
leaving  the  mansion-house  immediately.  Mr.  Mac-Morlan 
assisted  her  in  these  arrangements,  and  pressed  upon  her  so 
kindly  the  hospitality  and  protection  of  his  roof,  until  she 
should  receive  an  answer  from  her  cousin  or  be  enabled  to 
adopt  some  settled  plan  of  life,  that  she  felt  there  would  be 
unkindness  in  refusing  an  invitation  urged  with  such  ear- 
nestness. Mrs.  Mac-Morlan  was  a  ladylike  person,  and  well 
qualified  by  birth  and  manners  to  receive  the  visit  and  to 
make  her  house  agreeable  to  Miss  Bertram.  A  home,  there- 
fore, and  an  hospitable  reception,  were  secured  to  her,  and 
she  went  on  with  better  heart,  to  pay  the  wages  and  receive 
the  adieus  of  the  few  domestics  of  her  father's  family. 

Where  there  are  estimable  qualities  on  either  side,  this 
task  is  always  affecting — the  present  circumstances  rendered 
it  doubly  so.  All  received  their  due.  and  even  a  trifle  more, 
and  with  thanks  and  good  wishes,  to  which  some  added  tears, 
took  farewell  of  their  young  mistress.  There  remained  in 
the  parlour  only  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  who  came  to  attend  his 
guest  to  his  house,  Dominie  Sampson,  and  Miss  Bertram. 
'And  now/  said  the  poor  girl,  T  must  bid  farewell  to  one  of 

130 


GUY    MAXNERTKG  131 

my  oldest  and  kindest  friends — God  bless  you,  Mr,  Sampson  ! 
and  requite  to  you  all  the  kindness  of  your  instructions  to 
your  poor  pupil,  and  your  friendship  to  him  that  is 
gone !  I  hope  I  shall  often  hear  from  you.'  She  slid  into 
his  hand  a  paper  containing  some  pieces  of  gold,  and  rose, 
as  if  to  leave  the  room. 

Dominie  Sampson  also  rose;  but  it  was  to  stand  aghast 
with  utter  astonishment.  The  idea  of  parting  from  Miss 
Lucy,  go  where  she  might,  had  never  once  occurred  to  the 
simplicity  of  his  understanding.  He  laid  the  money  on  the 
table.  'It  is  certainly  inadequate/  said  Mac-Morlan,  mistak- 
ing his  meaning,  'but  the  circumstances ' 

Mr.  Sampson  waved  his  hand  impatiently — 'It  is  not  the 
lucre — it  it  is  not  the  lucre — but  that  I.  that  have  ate  of  her 
father's  loaf,  and  drank  of  his  cup,  for  twenty  years  and 
more — to  think  that  I  -^m  going  to  leave  her — and  to  leave 
her  in  distress  and  dolour !  No,  Miss  Lucy,  you  need  never 
think  it !  You  would  not  consent  to  put  forth  your  father's 
poor  dog,  and  would  you  use  me  waur  than  a  messan?  No, 
Miss  Lucy  Bertram — while  I  live,  I  will  not  separate  from 
you.  I'll  be  no  burden — I  have  thought  how  to  prevent  that. 
But,  as  Ruth  said  unto  Naomi,  "Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee, 
nor  to  depart  from  thee;  for  whither  thou  goest  I  will  go, 
and  where  thou  dvvellest  I  will  dwell ;  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  shall  be  my  God.  Where  thou  diest  will 
I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried.  The  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and 
more  also,  if  aught  but  death  do  part  thee  and  me."  ' 

During  this  speech,  the  longest  ever  Dominie  Sampson 
was  known  to  utter,  the  affectionate  creature's  eyes  streamed 
with  tears,  and  neither  Lucy  nor  Mac-Morlan  could  refrain 
from  sympathizing  with  this  unexpected  burst  of  feeling  and 
attachment.  'Mr.  Sampson,'  said  Mac-Morlan,  after  having 
had  recourse  to  his  snuff-box  and  handkerchief  alternately, 
'my  house  is  large  enough,  and  if  you  will  accept  of  a  bed 
there,  while  Miss  Bertram  honours  us  with  her  residence, 
I  shall  think  myself  very  happy  and  my  roof  much  favoured 
by  receiving  a  man  of  your  worth  and  fidelity.'  And  then, 
with  a  delicacy  which  was  meant  to  remove  any  objection  on 
Miss  Bertram's  part  to  bringing  with  her  this  unexpected 
satellite,  he  added,  'My  business  requires  my  frequently  hav- 


133  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ing  occasion  for  a  better  accountant  than  any  of  my  present 
clerks,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  have  recourse  to  your  assist- 
ance in  that  way  now  and  then.' 

'Of  a  surety,  of  a  surety,'  said  Sampson  eagerly;  'I  un- 
derstand book-keeping  by  double  entry  and  the  Italian 
method.' 

Our  postilion  had  thrust  himself  into  the  room  to  announce 
his  chaise  and  horses;  he  tarried,  unobserved,  during  this 
extraordinary  scene,  and  assured  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish  it  was 
the  most  moving  thing  he  ever  saw:  'the  death  of  the  grey 
mare,  puir  hizzie,  was  naething  till't.'  This  trifling  circum- 
stance afterwards  had  consequences  of  greater  moment  to  the 
Dominie. 

The  visitors  were  hospitably  welcomed  by  Mrs.  Mac-Mor- 
lan,  to  whom,  as  well  as  to  others,  her  husband  intimated  that 
he  had  engaged  Dominie  Sampson's  assistance  to  disentangle 
some  perplexed  accounts ;  during  which  occupation  he  would, 
for  convenience  sake,  reside  with  the  family.  Mr.  Mac-Mor- 
lan's  knowledge  of  the  world  induced  him  to  put  this  colour 
upon  the  matter,  aware  that  however  honourable  the  fidelity 
of  the  Dominie's  attachment  might  be,  both  to  his  own  heart 
and  to  the  family  of  Ellangowan,  his  exterior  ill  qualified  him 
to  be  a  'squire  of  dames,'  and  rendered  him  upon  the  whole, 
rather  a  ridiculous  appendage  to  a  beautiful  young  woman 
of  seventeen. 

Dominie  Sampson  achieved  with  great  zeal  such  tasks  as 
Mr.  Mac-Morlan  chose  to  intrust  him  with ;  but  it  was  speed- 
ily observed  that  at  a  certain  hour  after  breakfast  he  reg- 
ularly disappeared,  and  returned  again  about  dinner  time. 
The  evening  he  occupied  in  the  labour  of  the  ofiice.  On  Sat- 
urday, he  appeared  before  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  with  a  look  of 
great  triumph,  and  laid  on  the  table  two  pieces  of  gold. 

'What  is  this  for.  Dominie  ?'  said  Mac-Morlan. 

'First  to  indemnify  you  of  your  charges  in  my  behalf, 
worthy  sir — and  the  balance  for  the  use  of  Miss  Lucy  Ber- 
tram.' 

'But  Mr.  Sampson,  your  labour  in  the  office  much  more 
than  recompenses  me — I  am  your  debtor,  my  good  friend.' 

'Then  be  it  all,'  said  the  Dominie,  waving  his  hand,  'for 
Miss  Lucy  Bertram's  behoof.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  133 

'Well,  but  Dominie,  this  money ' 

'It  is  honestly  come  by,  Mr.  Mac-Morlan ;  it  is  the  bounti- 
ful reward  of  a  young  gentleman,  to  whom  I  am  teaching  the 
tongues;  reading  with  him  three  hours  daily.' 

A  few  more  questions  extracted  from  the  Dominie,  that 
this  liberal  pupil  was  young  Hazlewood,  and  that  he  met  his 
preceptor  daily  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  whose 
proclamation  of  .Sampson's  disinterested  attachment  to  the 
young  lady  had  procured  him  this  indefatigable  and  boun- 
teous scholar. 

Mac-Morlan  was  much  struck  with  what  he  heard.  Dom- 
inie Sampson  was  doubtless  a  very  good  scholar,  and  an  ex- 
cellent man,  and  the  classics  were  iniqu  est  ion  ably  very  well 
worth  reading;  yet  that  a  young  man  of  twenty  should  ride 
seven  miles  and  back  again  each  day  in  the  week,  to  hold  this 
sort  of  tctc  a  tcte  nf  three  hours,  was  a  zeal  for  literature 
to  which  he  was  not  pv  ;pared  to  give  entire  credit.  Little 
art  was  necessary  to  sift  the  Dominie,  for  the  honest  man's 
head  never  admitted  any  bvit  the  most  direct  and  simple  ideas. 
'Does  Miss  Bertram  know  how  your  time  is  engaged,  my 
good  friend?' 

'Surely  not  as  yet — Mr.  Charles  recommended  it  should 
be  concealed  from  her,  lest  she  should  scruple  to  accept 
of  the  small  assistance  arising  from  it ;  but,'  he  added, 
'it  would  not  be  possible  to  conceal  it  long,  since  Mr. 
Charles  proposed  taking  his  lessons  occasionally  in  this 
house.' 

'Oh,  he  does !'  said  Mac-Morlan :  'Yes,  yes,  I  can  under- 
stand that  better. — And  pray,  Mr.  Sampson,  are  these  three 
hours  entirely  spent  in  construing  and  translating?' 

'Doubtless,  no — we  have  also  colloquial  intercoursa  to 
sweeten   study — ucqiic  semper  arcum   tendit  Apollo.' 

The  querist  proceeded  to  elicit  from  this  Galloway  Phoebus 
what  their  discourse  chiefly  turned  upon. 

'Upon  our  past  meetings  at  Ellangowan — and  truly.  I  think 
very  often  we  discourse  concerning  Miss  Lucy — for  Mr. 
Charles  Hazelwood,  in  that  particular,  resembleth  me.  Mr. 
Mac-Morlan.  When  I  begin  to  speak  of  her  I  never  know 
when  to  stop — and.  as  I  say  (jocularly),  she  cheats  us  out 
of  half  our  lessons. 


134  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Oh  ho !'  thought  Mac-Morlan ;  'sits  the  wind  in  that  quar- 
ter?   I've  heard  something  Hke  this  before.' 

He  then  began  to  consider  what  conduct  was  safest  for  his 
protegee,  and  even  for  himself,  for  the  senior  Mr.  Hazlewood 
was  powerful,  wealthy,  ambitious,  and  vindictive,  and  looked 
for  both  fortune  and  title  in  any  connexion  which  his  son 
might  form.  At  length,  having  the  highest  opinion  of  his 
guest's  good  sense  and  penetration,  he  determined  to  take  an 
opportunity,  when  they  should  happen  to  be  alone,  to  com- 
municate the  matter  to  her  as  a  simple  piece  of  intelligence. 
He  did  so  in  as  natural  a  manner  as  he  could: — 'I  wish  you 
joy  of  your  friend  Mr.  Sampson's  good  fortune.  Miss  Ber- 
tram; he  has  got  a  pupil  who  pays  him  two  guineas  for 
twelve  lessons  of  Greek  and  Latin.' 

'Indeed ! — I  am  equally  happy  and  surprised.  Who  can 
be  so  liberal? — is  Colonel  Mannering  returned?' 

'No,  no,  not  Colonel  Mannering ;  but  what  do  you  think  of 
your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Charles  Hazlewood?  He  talks  of 
taking  his  lessons  here ;  I  wish  we  may  have  accommodation 
for  him.' 

Lucy  blushed  deeply.  'For  Heaven's  sake,  no,  Mr.  Mac- 
Morlan — do  not  let  that  be; — Charles  Hazelwood  has  had 
enough  of  mischief  about  that  already.' 

'About  the  classics,  my  dear  young  lady !'  wilfully  seeming 
to  misunderstand  her; — 'most  young  gentlemen  have  so  at 
one  period  or  another,  sure  enough ;  but  his  present  studies 
are  voluntary.' 

Miss  Bertram  let  the  conversation  drop,  and  her  host  made 
no  effort  to  renew  it,  as  she  seemed  to  pause  upon  the  intel- 
ligence, in  order  to  form  some  internal  resolution. 

The  next  day  Miss  Bertram  took  an  opportunity  of  con- 
versing with  Mr.  Sampson.  Expressing  in  the  kindest  man- 
ner her  grateful  thanks  for  his  disinterested  attachment,  and 
her  joy  that  he  had  got  such  a  provision,  she  hinted  to  him 
that  his  present  mode  of  superintending  Charles  Hazlewood's 
studies  must  be  so  inconvenient  to  his  pupil,  that,  while  that 
engagement  lasted,  he  had  better  consent  to  a  temporary 
separation,  and  reside  either  with  his  scholar,  or  as  near  him 
as  might  be.  Sampson  refused,  as  indeed' she  had  expected, 
to  listen  for  a  moment  to  this  proposition — he  would  not  quit 


GUY    MANXERIXG  135 

her  to  be  made  preceptor  to  the  Prince  of  Wales.  'But  1  see.' 
he  added,  'you  are  too  proud  to  share  my  pittance ;  and  per- 
adventure,  I  grow  wearisome  unto  you.' 

'No,  indeed — you  were  my  father's  ancient,  almost  his  only 
friend ; — I  am  not  proud — God  knows,  I  have  no  reason  to  be 
so.  You  shall  do  what  you  judge  best  in  other  matters;  but 
oblige  me  by  telling  Mr.  Charles  Hazlewood,  that  you  had 
some  conversation  with  me  concerning  his  studies,  and  that 
I  was  of  opinion  that  his  carrying  them  on  in  this  house  was 
altogether  impracticable,  and  not  to  be  thought  of.' 

Dominie  Sampson  left  her  presence  altogether  crestfallen, 
and,  as  he  shut  the  door,  could  not  help  muttering  the 
'variiim  et  mutahilc'  of  Virgil.  Next  day  he  appeared  with 
a  very  rueful  visage,  and  tendered  Miss  Bertram  a  letter, 
'Mr.  Hazlewood,'  he  said,  'was  to  discontinue  his  lessons, 
though  he  had  generc  isly  made  up  the  pecuniary  loss.  But 
how  will  he  make  up  the  loss  to  himself  of  the  knowledge  he 
might  have  acquired  under  my  instruction?  Even  in  that 
one  article  of  writing,  he  was  an  hour  before  he  could  write 
that  brief  note,  and  destroyed  many  scrolls,  four  quills,  and 
some  good  white  paper:  I  would  have  taught  him  in  three 
weeks  a  firm,  current,  clear,  and  legible  hand — he  should 
have  been  a  calligrapher ;  but  God's  will  be  done.' 

The  letter  contained  but  a  few  lines,  deeply  regretting  and 
murmuring  against  Miss  Bertram's  cruelty,  who  not  only  re- 
fused to  see  him,  but  to  permit  him  in  the  most  indirect  man- 
ner to  hear  of  her  health  and  contribute  to  her  service.  But 
it  concluded  with  assurances  that  her  severity  was  vain,  and 
that  nothing  could  shake  the  attachment  of  Charles  Hazle- 
wood. 

Under  the  active  patronage  of  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish.  Samp- 
son picked  up  some  other  scholars — very  different  indeed 
from  Charles  Hazlewood  in  rank — and  whose  lessons  were 
proportionally  unproductive.  Still,  however,  he  gained  some- 
thing, and  it  was  the  glory  of  his  heart  to  carry  it  to  Mr. 
Alac-Morlan  weekly,  a  slight  peculium  only  subtracted,  to 
supply  his  snuff-box  and  tobacco-pouch. 

And  here  we  must  leave  Kippletringan  to  look  after  our 
hero,  lest  our  readers  should  fear  they  are  to  lose  sight  of  him 
for  another  quarter  of  a  century. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

Our  Polly  is  a  sad  slut,  nor  heeds  what  we  have  taught  her; 

I  wonder  any  man  alive  will  ever  rear  a  daughter ; 

For  when  she's  drest  with  care  and  cost,  all  tempting,  fine,  and  gay, 

As  men  should  serve  a  cucumber,  she  flings  herself  away. 

Beggar's  Opera. 

A  FTER  the  death  of  Mr.  Bertram,  Mannering  had  set 
/A  out  upon  a  short  tour,  proposing  to  return  to  the 
-^ — *-  neighbourhood  of  Ellangowan  before  the  sale  of  that 
property  should  take  place.  He  went,  accordingly,  to  Edin- 
burgh and  elsewhere,  and  it  was  in  his  return  towards  the 
south-western  district  of  Scotland,  in  which  our  scene  lies, 
that,  at  a  post-town  about  a  hundred  miles  from  Kippletrin- 
gan,  to  which  he  had  requested  his  friend,  Mr.  Merwyn,  to 
address  his  letters,  he  received  one  from  that  gentleman, 
which  contained  rather  unpleasing  intelligence.  We  have  as- 
sumed already  the  privilege  of  acting  a  secrctis  to  this  gen- 
tleman, and  therefore  shall  present  the  reader  with  an  extract 
from  this  epistle. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dearest  friend,  for  the  pain  I  have  given 
you,  in  forcing  you  to  open  wounds  so  festering  as  those  your  letter 
referred  to.  I  have  always  heard,  though  erroneously  perhaps,  that 
the  attentions  of  Mr.  Brown  were  intended  for  Miss  Mannering. 
But,  however  that  were,  it  could  not  be  supposed  that  in  your  situa- 
tion his  boldness  should  escape  notice  and  chastisement.  Wise  men 
say  that  we  resign  to  civil  society  our  natural  rights  of  self-defence, 
only  on  condition  that  the  ordinances  of  law  should  protect  us. 
Where  the  price  cannot  be  paid,  the  resignation  becomes  void.  For 
instance,  no  one  supposes  that  I  am  not  entitled  to  defend  my  purse 
and  person  against  a  highwayman,  as  much  as  if  I  were  a  wild 
Indian,  who  owns  neither  law  nor  magistracy.  The  question  of 
resistance,  or  submission,  must  be  determined  by  my  means  and 
situation.  But,  if,  armed  and  equal  in  force,  I  submit  to  injustice 
and  violence  from  any  man,  high  or  low,  I  presume  it  will  hardly 
be  attributed  to  religious  or  moral  feeling  in  me,  or  in  any  one  but 
a  quaker.  An  aggression  on  my  honour  seems  to  me  much  the  same. 
The  insult,  however  trifling  in  itself,  is  one  of  much  deeper  conse- 
quence to  all  views  in  life  than  any  wrong  which  can  be  inflicted 
by  a  depredator  on  the  highway,  and  to  redress  the  injured  party  is 

136 


1 


\ 


GUY    MANNERING  137 

much  less  in  the  power  of  public  jurisprudence,  or  rather  it  is 
entirely  beyond  its  reach.  If  any  man  chooses  to  rob  Arthur 
Mervyn  of  the  contents  of  his  purse,  supposing  the  said  Arthur  has 
not  means  of  defence  or  the  skill  and  courage  to  use  them,  the 
assizes  at  Lancaster  or  Carlisle  will  do  him  justice  by  tucking  up 
the  robber: — Yet  who  will  say  I  am  bound  to  wait  for  this  justice, 
and  submit  to  being  plundered  in  the  first  instance,  if  I  have  myself 
the  means  and  spirit  to  protect  my  own  property  ?  But  if  an  affront 
is  offered  to  me,  submission  under  which  is  to  tarnish  my  character 
for  ever  with  men  of  honour,  and  for  which  the  twelve  Judges  of 
England  with  the  Chancellor  to  boot  can  afford  me  no  redress,  by 
what  rule  or  law  of  reason  am  I  to  be  deterred  from  protecting 
what  ought  to  be,  and  is,  so  infinitely  dearer  to  every  man  of  honour 
than  his  whole  fortune?  Of  the  religious  views  of  the  matter  I  shall 
say  nothing,  until  I  find  a  reverend  divine  who  shall  condemn 
self-defence  in  the  article  of  life  and  property.  If  its  propriety  in 
that  case  be  generally  admitted,  I  suppose  little  distinction  can  be 
drawn  between  defence  of  person  and  goods,  and  protection  of 
reputation.  That  the  latter  is  liable  to  be  assailed  by  persons  of  a 
different  rank  in  life,  vntainted  perhaps  in  morals,  and  fair  in  char- 
acter, cannot  affect  my  iCgal  right  of  self-defence.  I  may  be  sorry 
that  circumstances  have  engaged  me  in  personal  strife  with  such  an 
individual :  but  I  should  feel  the  same  sorrow  for  a  generovis  enemy 
who  fell  under  my  sword  in  a  national  quarrel.  I  shall  leave  the 
question  with  the  casuists,  however ;  only  observing,  that  what  I 
have  written  will  not  avail  either  the  professed  duellist,  or  him  who 
is  the  aggressor  in  a  dispute  of  honour.  I  only  presume  to  exculpate 
him  who  is  dragged  into  the  field  by  such  an  offence,  as,  submitted 
to  in  patience,  would  forfeit  for  ever  his  rank  and  estimation  in 
society. 

'I  am  sorry  you  have  thoughts  of  settling  in  Scotland,  and  yet 
glad  that  you  will  still  be  at  no  immeasurable  distance,  and  that  the 
latitude  is  all  in  our  favour.  To  move  to  Westmoreland  from  Devon- 
shire might  make  an  East  Indian  shudder ;  but  to  come  to  us  from 
Galloway  or  Dumfriesshire,  is  a  step,  though  a  short  one,  nearer  the 
sun.  Besides,  if,  as  I  suspect,  the  estate  in  view  be  connected  with 
the  old  haunted  castle  in  which  you  played  the  astrologer  in  your 
northern  tour  some  twenty  years  since,  I  have  heard  you  too  often 
describe  the  scene  with  comic  unction,  to  hope  you  will  be  deterred 
from  making  the  purchase.  I  trust,  however,  the  hospitable  gossiping 
Laird  has  not  run  himself  upon  the  shallows,  and  that  his  chaplain, 
whom  you  so  often  made  us  laugh  at,  is  still  in  reruin  nature. 

'And  here,  dear  Mannering,  I  wish  I  could  stop,  for  I  have  in- 
credible pain  in  telling  the  rest  of  my  story ;  although  I  am  sure 
I  can  warn  you  against  any  intentional  impropriety  on  the  part  of 
my  temporary  ward,  Julia  Mannering.  But  I  must  still  learn 
my  college  nickname  of  Downright  Dunstable.  In  one  word,  then, 
here  is  the  matter. 

'Your  daughter  has  much  of  the  romantic  turn  of  your  disposition, 
with  a  little  of  that  love  of  admiration  which  all  pretty  women  share 


138  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

less  or  more.  She  will  besides,  apparently,  be  your  heiress ;  a  trifling 
circumstance  to  those  who  view  Julia  with  my  eyes,  but  a  prevailing 
bait  to  the  specious,  artful,  and  worthless.  You  know  how  I  have 
jested  with  her  about  her  soft  melancholy,  and  lonely  walks  at 
morning  before  any  one  is  up,  and  in  the  moonlight  when  all  should 
be  gone  to  bed,  or  set  down  to  cards  which  is  the  same  thing.  The 
incident  which  follows  may  not  be  beyond  the  bounds  of  a  joke, 
but  I  had  rather  the  jest  upon  it  came  from  you  than  me. 

'Two  or  three  times  during  the  last  fortnight,  I  heard,  at  a  late 
hour  in  the  night,  or  very  early  in  the  morning,  a  flageolet  play  the 
little  Hindu  tune  to  which  vour  daughter  is  so  partial.  I  thought  for 
some  time  that  some  ttineful  domestic,  whose  taste  for  music  was 
laid  under  constraint  during  the  day,  chose  that  silent  hour  to 
imitate  the  strains  which  he  had  caught  tip  by  the  ear  during  his 
attendance  in  the  drawing-room.  But  last  night  I  sat  late  in  my 
study,  which  is  immediately  under  Miss  Mannerings'  apartment,  and, 
to  my  surprise,  I  not  only  heard  the  flageolet  distinctly,  but  satisfied 
myself  that  it  came  from  the  lake  tmder  the  window.  Curious  to 
know  who  serenaded  us  at  that  unusual  hour,  I  stole  softly  to  the 
window  of  my  apartment.  But  there  were  other  watchers  than  me. 
You  may  remember  Miss  Mannering  preferred  that  apartment  on 
account  of  a  balcony  which  opened  from  her  window  upon  the  lake. 
— Well,  sir,  I  heard  the  sash  of  her  window  thrown  up,  the  shutters 
opened,  and  her  own  voice  in  conversation  with  some  person  who 
answered  from  below.  This  is  not  "Much  ado  about  nothing:"  I 
could  not  be  mistaken  in  her  voice,  and  such  tones,  so  soft,  so 
insinuating — and,  to  say  the  truth,  the  accents  from  below  were  in 
passion's  tenderest  cadence  too — but  of  the  sense  I  can  say  nothing. 
I  raised  the  sash  of  my  own  window  that  I  might  hear  something 
more  than  the  mere  murmur  of  this  Spanish  rendezvous;  but,  though 
I  used  every  precaution,  the  noise  alarmed  the  speakers ;  down  slid 
the  young  lady's  casement,  and  the  shutters  were  barred  in  an  instant. 
The  dash  of  a  pair  of  oars  in  the  water  announced  the  retreat  of 
the  male  person  of  the  dialogue.  Indeed,  I  saw  his  boat,  which  he 
rowed  with  great  swiftness  and  dexterity,  fly  across  the  lake  like 
a  twelve-oared  barge.  Next  morning  I  examined  some  of  my  do- 
mestics, as  if  by  accident,  and  I  found  the  gamekeeper,  when  making 
his  rounds,  had  twice  seen  that  boat  beneath  the  house,  with  a  single 
person,  and  had  heard  the  flageolet.  I  did  not  care  to  press  any 
further  questions,  for  fear  of  implicating  Julia  in  the  opinions  of 
those  whom  they  might  be  asked.  Next  morning,  at  breakfast,  I 
dropped  a  casual  hint  about  the  serenade  of  the  evening  before,  and 
I  promise  you  Miss  Mannering  looked  red  and  pale  alternately.  I 
immediately  gave  the  circumstance  such  a  turn  as  might  lead  her  to 
suppose  that  my  observation  was  merely  casual.  I  have  since  caused 
a  watch-light  to  be  burnt  in  my  library,  and  have  left  the  shutters 
open,  to  deter  the  approach  of  our  nocturnal  guest ;  and  I  have 
Stated  the  severity  of  approaching  winter,  and  the  rawness  of  the 
fogs  as  an  objection  to  solitary  walks.  Miss  Mannering  acquiesced 
with  a  passiveness  which  is  no  part  of  her  character,  and  which,  to 


GUY    MANXERING  139 

tell  you  the  plain  truth,  is  a  feature  about  the  business  which  I  like 
least  of  all.  Julia  has  too  much  of  her  own  dear  papa's  disposition 
to  be  curbed  in  any  of  her  humours,  were  there  not  some  little  lurk- 
ing consciousness  that  it  may  be  as  prudent  to  avoid  debate. 

'Now  my  story  is  told,  and  you  will  judge  what  you  ought  to  do. 
I  have  not  mentioned  the  matter  to  my  good  woman,  who,  a  faithful 
secretary  to  her  sex's  foibles,  would  certainly  remonstrate  against 
your  being  made  acquainted  with  these  particulars,  and  might,  in- 
stead, take  it  into  her  head  to  exercise  her  own  eloquence  on  Miss 
Mannering, — a  faculty,  which,  however  powerful  when  directed 
against  me,  its  legitimate  object,  might,  I  fear,  do  more  harm  than 
good  in  the  case  supposed.  Perhaps  even  you  yourself  will  find  it 
most  prudent  to  act  'without  remonstrating,  or  appearing  to  be  aware 
of  this  little  anecdote.  Julia  is  very  like  a  certain  friend  of  mine  ; 
she  has  a  quick  and  lively  imagination,  and  keen  feelings,  which  are 
apt  to  exaggerate  both  the  good  and  evil  they  find  in  life.  She  is  a 
charming  girl,  however,  as  generous  and  spirited  as  she  is  lovely. 
I  paid  her  the  kiss  you  sent  her  with  all  my  heart,  and  she  rapped 
my  fingers  for  my  reward  with  all  hers.  Pray  return  as  soon  as 
you  can.     Meantime,  rely  upon  the  care  of,  yours  faithfiilly, 

Arthur  Mervyn. 

'PS. — You  will  naturally  wish  to  know  if  I  have  the  least  guess 
concerning  the  person  of  the  seiienader.  In  truth,  I  have  none. 
There  is  no  young  gentleman  of  these  parts,  who  might  be  in  rank 
or  fortune  a  match  for  Miss  Julia,  that  I  think  at  all  likely  to  play 
such  a  character.  But  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  nearly  opposite 
to  Mervyn-hall.  is  a  d — d  cake-house,  the  resort  of  walking  gentlemen 
of  all  descriptions, — poets,  players,  painters,  musicians,  who  come 
to  rave,  and  recite,  and  madden,  about  this  picturesque  land  of  ours. 
It  is  paying  some  penalty  for  its  beauties,  that  they  are  the  means  of 
drawing  this  swarm  of  coxcombs  together.  But  were  Julia  my 
daughter,  it  is  one  of  those  sort  of  fellows  that  I  should  fear  on 
her  account.  She  is  generous  and  romantic,  and  writes  six  sheets 
a  week  to  a  female  correspondent ;  and  it's  a  sad  thing  to  lack  a 
subject  in  such  a  case,  either  for  exercise  of  the  feelings  or  of  the 
pen.  Adieu,  once  more.  Were  I  to  treat  this  matter  more  seriously 
than  I  have  done,  I  should  do  injustice  to  your  feelings;  were  I 
altogether  to  overlook  it,   I   should  discredit  my  own.' 

The  consequence  of  this  letter  was,  that  having  first  dis- 
patched the  faithless  messenger  with  the  necessary  powers 
to  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  for  purchasing  the  estate  of  Ellan- 
gowan,  Colonel  Mannering  turned  his  horse's  head  in  a  more 
southerly  direction,  and  neither  'stinted  nor  staid,'  until  he 
arrived  at  the  mansion  of  his  friend  Mr.  Mervyn,  upon  the 
banks  of  one  of  the  lakes  of  Westmoreland. 


D— 6 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Heaven  first,  in  its  mercy,  taught  mortals  their  letters, 
For  ladies  in  limbo,  and  lovers  in  fetters. 
Or  some  author,  who,  placing  his  persons  before  ye, 
Ungallantly  leaves  them   to   write  their  own   story. 

PoPE^  imitated. 

WHEN  Mannering  returned  to  England,  his  first  ob- 
ject had  been  to  place  his  daughter  in  a  seminary 
for  female  education,  of  established  character. 
Not,  however,  finding  her  progress  in  the  accomplishments 
which  he  wished  her  to  acquire  so  rapid  as  his  impatience 
expected,  he  had  withdrawn  Miss  Mannering  from  the  school 
at  the  end  of  the  first  quarter.  So  she  had  only  time  to  form 
an  eternal  friendship  with  Miss  Matilda  Marchmont,  a  young 
lady  about  her  own  age,  which  was  nearly  eighteen.  To  her 
faithful  eye  were  addressed  those  formidable  quires  which 
issued  forth  from  Mervyn-hall  on  the  wings  of  the  post, 
while  Miss  Mannering  was  a  guest  there.  The  perusal  of 
a  few  short  extracts  from  these  may  be  necessary  to  render 
our  story  intelligible : 

First  Extract 

'Alas  !  my  dearest  Matilda,  what  a  tale  is  mine  to  tell !  Misfortune 
from  the  cradle  has  set  her  seal  upon  your  unhappy  friend.  That 
we  should  be  severed  for  so  slight  a  cause — an  ungrammatical  phrase 
in  my  Italian  exercise,  and  three  false  notes  in  one  of  Paesiello's 
sonatas  !  But  it  is  a  part  of  my  father's  character,  of  whom  it  is 
impossilbe  to  say  whether  I  love,  admire,  or  fear  him  the  most.  His 
success  in  life  and  in  war — his  habit  of  making  every  obstacle  yield 
before  the  energy  of  his  exertions,  even  where  they  seemed  insur- 
mountable— all  these  have  given  a  hasty  and  peremptory  cast  to  his 
character,  which  can  neither  endure  contradiction,  nor  make  allow- 
ance for  deficiencies.  Then  he  is  himself  so  very  accomplished.  Do 
you  know  there  was  a  murmur,  half  confirmed,  too,  by  some  mys- 
terious words  which  dropped  from  my  poor  mother,  that  he  possesses 
other  sciences,  now  lost  to  the  world,  which  enable  the  possessor  to 
summon  up  before  him  the  dark  and  shadowy  forms  of  future  events  ! 
Does  not  the  very  idea  of  such  a  power,  or  even  of  the  high  talent 
and   commanding   intellect   which  the   world   may   mistake    for   it, — 

140 


GUY   MANNERING  141 

does  it  not,  dear  Matilda,  throw  a  mysterious  grandeur  about  its 
possessor?  You  will  call  this  romantic:  but  consider  I  was  born 
in  the  land  of  talisman  and  spell,  and  my  childhood  lulled  by  tales 
which  you  can  only  enjoy  through  the  gauzy  frippery  of  a  French 
translation.  O  Matilda,  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  dusky 
visages  of  my  Indian  attendants,  bending  in  earnest  devotion  round 
the  magic  narrative,  that  flowed,  half  poetry,  half  prose,  from  the 
lips  of  the  tale-teller  !  No  wonder  that  European  fiction  sounds  cold 
and  meagre,  after  the  wonderful  effects  which  I  have  seen  the 
romances  of  the  East  produce  upon   their  hearers.' 

Second  Extract 

'You  are  possessed,  my  dear  Matilda,  of  my  bosom-secret,  in  those 
sentiments  with  which  I  regard  Brown.  I  will  not  say  his  memory 
— I  am  convinced  he  lives,  and  is  faithful.  His  addresses  to  me 
were  countenanced  by  my  deceased  parent ;  imprudently  counte- 
nanced perhaps,  considering  the  prejudices  of  my  father  in  favour  of 
birth  and  rank.  But  I,  then  almost  a  girl,  could  not  be  expected, 
surely,  to  be  wiser  than  her,  under  whose  charge  nature  had  placed 
me.  My  father,  constantly  engaged  in  military  duty,  I  saw  but  at 
rare  intervals,  and  was  tt.  ight  to  look  up  to  him  with  more  awe  than 
confidence.  Would  to  Heaven  it  had  been  otherwise  !  It  might  have 
been  better  for  us  all  at  this  day  1' 

Third  Extract 

'You  ask  me  why  I  do  not  make  known  to  my  father  that  Brown 
yet  lives,  at  least  that  he  survived  the  wound  he  received  in  that 
unhappy  duel ;  and  had  written  to  my  mother,  expressing  his  entire 
convalescence,  and  his  hope  of  speedily  escaping  from  captivity.  A 
soldier,  that  "in  the  trade  of  war  has  oft  slain  men,"  feels  probably 
no  uneasiness  at  reflecting  upon  the  supposed  catastrophe,  which 
almost  turned  me  into  stone.  And  should  I  show  him  that  letter, 
does  it  not  follow,  that  Brown,  alive  and  maintaining  with  pertinacity 
the  pretensions  to  the  affections  of  your  poor  friend,  for  which  my 
father  formerly  sought  his  life,  would  be  a  more  formidable  disturber 
of  Colonel  Mannering's  peace  of  mind  than  his  supposed  grave?  If 
he  escapes  from  the  hands  of  these  marauders,  I  am  convinced  he 
will  soon  be  in  England,  and  it  will  be  then  time  to  consider  how  his 
existence  is  to  be  disclosed  to  my  father. — But  if,  alas !  my  earnest 
and  confident  hope  should  betray  me,  what  would  it  avail  to  tear 
open  a  mystery  fraught  with  so  many  painful  recollections? — My 
dear  mother  had  such  dread  of  its  being  known,  that  I  think  she  even 
suffered  my  father  to  suspect  that  Brown's  attentions  were  directed 
towards  herself,  rather  than  permit  him  to  discover  their  real  object  ; 
— and  O,  Matilda,  whatever  respect  I  owe  to  the  memory  of  a 
deceased  parent,  let  me  do  justice  to  a  living  one.  I  cannot  but 
condemn  the  dubious  policy  which  she  adopted,  as  unjust  to  my 
father,  and  highly  perilous  to  herself  and  me.  But  peace  be  with  her 
ashes ! — her  actions  were  guided  by  the  heart  rather  than  the  head ; 


142  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

and  shall  her  daughter,  who  inherits  all  her  weakness,  be  the  first 
to  withdraw  the  veil  from  her  defects?' 


Fourth  Extract 

'Mervyn-Hall. 

'If  India  be  the  land  of  magic,  this,  my  dearest  Matilda,  is  the 
country  of  romance.  The  scenery  is  such  as  nature  brings  together 
in  her  sublimest  moods  ; — sounding  cataracts — hills  which  rear  their 
scathed  heads  to  the  sky — lakes,  that,  winding  up  the  shadowy 
valleys,  lead  at  every  turn  to  yet  more  romantic  recesses — rocks 
which  catch  the  clouds  of  heaven.  All  the  wildness  of  Salvador  here 
— and  there,  the  fairy  scenes  of  Claude.  I  am  happy,  too,  in  finding 
at  least  one  object  upon  which  my  father  can  share  my  enthusiasm. 
An  admirer  of  nature,  both  as  an  artist  and  a  poet,  I  have  experi- 
enced the  utmost  pleasure  from  the  observations  by  which  he  explains 
the  character  and  the  elYect  of  these  brilliant  specimens  of  her 
power.  I  wish  he  would  settle  in  this  enchanting  land.  But  his  views 
lie  still  further  north,  and  he  is  at  present  absent  on  a  tour  in 
Scotland,  looking,  I  believe,  for  some  purchase  of  land  which  may 
suit  him  as  a  residence.  He  is  partial  from  early  recollections,  to 
that  country.  So,  my  dearest  Matilda,  I  must  be  yet  further  removed 
from  you  before  I  am  established  in  a  home. — And  O  how  delighted 
shall  I  be  when  I  can  say.  Come,  Matilda,  and  be  the  guest  of  your 
faithful  Julia ! 

'I  am  at  present  the  inmate  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mervyn,  old  friends 
of  my  father.  The  latter  is  precisely  a  good  sort  of  woman; — 
ladylike  and  housewifely,  but,  for  accomplishments  or  fancy — good 
lack,  my  dearest  Matilda,  your  friend  might  as  well  seek  sympathy 
from  Mrs.  Teach'em, — you  see  I  have  not  forgot  school  nicknames. 
Mervyn  is  a  different — quite  a  difYerent  being  from  my  father:  yet 
he  amuses  and  endures  me.  He  is  fat  and  good-natured,  gifted  with 
strong,  shrewd  sense,  and  some  powers  of  humour;  but  having  been 
handsome,  I  suppose,  in  his  youth,  has  still  some  pretensions  to  be 
a  beau  gargon,  as  well  as  an  enthusiastic  agriculturist.  I  delight  to 
make  him  scramble  to  the  tops  of  eminences  and  to  the  foot  of 
waterfalls,  and  am  obliged  in  turn  to  admire  his  turnips,  his  lucern, 
and  his  timothy-grass.  He  thinks  me,  I  fancy,  a  simple  romantic 
Miss,  with  some— (the  word  will  be  out)  beauty,  and  some  good 
nature ;  and  I  hold  that  the  gentleman  has  good  taste  for  the  f em.ale 
outside,  and  do  not  expect  he  should  comprehend  my  sentiments 
further.  So  he  rallies,  hands,  and  hobbles  (for  the  dear  creature  has 
got  the  gout  too),  and  tells  old  stories  of  high  life,  of  which  he  has 
seen  a  great  deal;  and  I  listen,  and  smile,  and  look  as  pretty,  as 
pleasant,  and  as  simple  as   I  can, — and  we  do  very  well. 

'But  alas  !  my  dearest  Matilda,  how  would  time  pass  away,  even 
in  this  paradise  of  romance,  tenanted  as  it  is  by  a  pair  assorting 
so  ill  with  the  scenes  around  them,  were  it  not  for  your  fidelity  in 
replying  to  my  uninteresting  details?  Pray  do  not  fail  to  write 
three  times  a  week  at  least — you  can  be  at  no  loss  what  to  say.' 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  143 

Fifth  Extract 

'How  shall  I  communicate  what  I  have  now  to  tell !  My  hand 
and  heart  still  flutter  so  much,  that  the  task  of  writing  is  almost 
impossible  !  Did  I  not  say  that  he  lived  ?  did  I  not  say  I  would  not 
despair?  How  could  you  suggest,  my  dear  Matilda,  that  my  feelings, 
considering  I  had  parted  from  him  so  young,  rather  arose  from  the 
warmth  of  my  imagination  than  of  my  heart?  Oh!  I  was  sure  that 
they  were  genuine,  deceitful  as  the  dictates  of  our  bosom  so  fre- 
quently are.  But  to  my  tale — let  it  be,  my  friend,  the  most  sacred, 
as  it  is  the  most  sincere  pledge  of  our  friendship. 

'Our  hours  here  are  early — earlier  than  my  heart,  with  its  load 
of  care,  can  compose  itself  to  rest.  I,  therefore,  usually  take  a  book 
for  an  hour  or  two  after  retiring  to  my  own  room,  which  I  think 
1  have  told  you  opens  to  a  small  balcony,  looking  down  upon  that 
beautiful  lake,  of  which  1  attempted  to  give  you  a  slight  sketch. 
Mervyn-hall,  being  partly  an  ancient  building,  and  constructed  with 
a  view  to  defence,  is  situated  on  the  verge  of  the  lake.  A  stone 
dropped  from  the  projecting  balcony  plunges  into  water  deep  enough 
to  float  a  skiff.  I  had  left  my  window  partly  unbarred,  that,  before 
I  went  to  bed,  I  might,  iccording  to  my  custom,  look  out  and  see 
the  moonlight  shining  upon  the  lake.  I  was  deeply  engaged  with  that 
beautiful  scene  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  two  lovers,  de- 
scribing the  stillness  of  a  summer  night,  enhance  on  each  other  its 
charms,  and  was  lost  in  the  associations  of  story  and  of  feeling 
which  it  awakens,  when  I  heard  upon  the  lake  the  sound  of  a 
flageolet.  I  have  told  you  it  was  Brown's  favourite  instrument.  Who 
could  touch  it  in  a  night  which,  though  still  and  serene,  was  too 
cold,  and  too  late  in  the  year,  to  invite  forth  any  wanderer  for  mere 
pleasure  ?  I  drew  yet  nearer  the  window,  and  hearkened  with  breath- 
less attention ; — the  sounds  paused  a  space,  were  then  resumed — 
paused  again — and  again  reached  my  ear,  ever  coming  nearer  and 
nearer.  At  length,  I  distinguished  plainly  that  little  Hindu  air 
which  you  called  my  favourite — I  have  told  you  by  whom  it  was 
taught  me ; — the  instrument,  the  tones,  were  his  own !  Was  it 
earthly  music,  or  notes  passing  on  the  wind,  to  warn  me  of  his  death  ? 

'It  was  some  time  ere  I  could  summon  courage  to  step  on  the 
balcony — nothing  could  have  emboldened  me  to  do  so  but  the  strong 
conviction  of  my  mind  that  he  was  still  alive,  and  that  we  should 
again  meet ;  but  that  conviction  did  embolden  me,  and  I  ventured, 
though  with  a  throbbing  heart.  There  was  a  small  skiff,  with  a 
single  person — O,  Matilda,  it  was  himself  ! — I  knew  his  appearance 
after  so  long  an  absence,  and  through  the  shadow  of  the  night,  as 
perfectly  as  if  we  had  parted  yesterday,  and  met  again  in  the  broad 
sunshine  !  He  guided  his  boat  under  the  balcony,  and  spoke  to  me. 
I  hardly  knew  what  he  said,  or  what  I  replied.  Indeed,  I  could 
scarcely  speak  for  weeping, — but  they  were  joyful  tears.  We  were 
disturbed  by  the  barking  of  a  dog  at  some  distance,  and  parted,  but 
not  before  he  had  conjvired  me  to  prepare  to  meet  him  at  the  same 
place  and  hour  this  evening. 


144  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'But  where  and  to  what  is  all  this  tending?  Can  I  answer  this 
question?  I  cannot.  Heaven,  that  saved  him  from  death,  and  de- 
livered him  from  captivity — that  saved  my  father,  too,  from  shedding 
the  blood  of  one  who  would  not  have  blemished  a  hair  of  his  head, 
— that  Heaven  must  guide  me  out  of  this  labyrinth.  Enough  for  me 
the  firm  resolution,  that  Matilda  shall  not  blush  for  her  friend,  my 
father  for  his  daughter,  nor  my  lover  for  her  on  whom  he  has 
fixed  his  affection.' 


I 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Talk  with  a  man  out  of  a  window  ! — a  proper  saying. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

WE  must  proceed  with  our  extracts  from  j\Iiss  Man- 
nering's  letters,  which  throw  Hght  upon  natural 
good  sense,  principle,  and  feelings,  blemished  by 
an  imperfect  education,  and  the  folly  of  a  misjudging 
mother,  who  called  her  husband  in  her  heart  a  tyrant  until 
she  feared  him  as  such,  and  read  romances  until  she  became 
so  enamoured  of  the  complicated  intrigues  which  they  con- 
tain, as  to  assume  the  Tianagement  of  a  little  family  novel  of 
her  own,  and  constitute  her  daughter,  a  girl  of  sixteen,  the 
principal  heroine.  She  delighted  in  petty  mystery,  and  in- 
trigue, and  secrets,  and  yet  trembled  at  the  indignation 
which  these  paltry  manoeuvres  excited  in  her  husband's  mind. 
Thus  she  frequently  entered  upon  a  scheme  merely  for 
pleasure,  or  perhaps  for  the  love  of  contradiction — plunged 
deeper  into  it  than  she  was  aware — endeavoured  to  extricate 
herself  by  new  arts,  or  to  cover  her  error  by  dissimilation — 
became  involved  in  meshes  of  her  own  weaving,  and  was 
forced  to  carry  on,  for  fear  of  discovery,  machinations 
which  she  had  at  first  resorted  to  in  mere  wantonness. 

Fortunately  the  young  man  whom  she  so  imprudently 
introduced  into  her  intimate  society,  and  encouraged  to 
look  up  to  her  daughter,  had  a  fund  of  principle  and  honest 
pride,  which  rendered  him  a  safer  intimate  than  INIrs.  Man- 
nering  ought  to  have  dared  to  hope  or  expect.  The  ob- 
scurity of  his  birth  could  alone  be  objected  to  him;  in  every 
other  respect. 

With  prospects  bright  upon  the  world  he  came, 
Pure  love  of  virtue,  strong  desire  of  fame ; 
Men  watched  the  way  his  lofty  mind  would  take, 
And  all  foretold  the  progress  he  would  make. 

But  it  could  not  be  expected  that  he  should  resist  the 
snare  which  Mrs.  Alannering's  imprudence  threw  in  his  way, 

145 


146  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

or  avoid  becoming  attached  to  a  young  lady,  whose  beauty 
and  manners  might  have  justified  his  passion,  even  in  scenes 
where  these  are  more  generally  met  with,  than  in  a  remote 
fortress  in  our  Indian  settlements.  The  scenes  which  fol- 
lowed have  been  partly  detailed  in  Mannering's  letter  to  Mr. 
Mervyn ;  and  to  expand  what  is  there  stated  into  further  ex- 
planation, would  be  to  abuse  the  patience  of  our  readers. 

We  shall,  therefore,  proceed  with  our  promised  extracts 
from  Miss  Mannering's  letters  to  her  friend : — 

Sixth   Extract 

'I  have  seen  him  again,  Matilda — seen  him  twice.  I  have  used 
every  argument  to  convince  him  that  this  secret  intercourse  is  dan- 
gerous to  us  both.  I  even  pressed  him  to  pursue  his  views  of  for- 
tune without  further  regard  to  me,  and  to  consider  my  peace  of 
mind  as  sufficiently  secured  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  not  fallen 
under  my  father's  sword.  He  answers — hut  how  can  I  detail  all  he 
has  to  answer?  He  claims  those  hopes  as  his  due  which  my  mother 
permitted  him  to  entertain,  and  would  persuade  me  to  the  madness 
of  a  union  without  my  father's  sanction.  But  to  this,  Matilda,  I  will 
not  be  persuaded.  I  have  resisted,  I  have  subdued,  the  rebellious 
feelings  which  arose  to  aid  his  plea ; — yet  how  to  extricate  myself 
from  this  unhappy  labyrinth,  in  which  fate  and  folly  have  entangled 
us  both  ! 

'I  have  thought  upon  it,  Matilda,  till  my  head  is  almost  giddy — 
nor  can  I  conceive  a  better  plan  than  to  make  a  full  confession  to  my 
father.  He  deserves  it,  for  his  kindness  is  unceasing;  and  I  think 
I  have  observed  in  his  character,  since  I  have  studied  it  more  nearly, 
that  his  harsher  feelings  are  chiefly  excited  where  he  suspects  deceit 
or  imposition ;  and  in  that  respect,  perhaps,  his  character  was  for- 
merly misunderstood  by  one  who  was  dear  to  him.  He  has,  too,  a 
tinge  of  romance  in  his  disposition  ;  and  I  have  seen  the  narrative 
of  a  generous  action,  a  trait  of  heroism,  or  virtuous  self-denial, 
extract  tears  from  him,  which  refused  to  flow  at  a  tale  of  mere 
distress.  But  then.  Brown  urges,  that  he  is  personally  hostile  to 
him.  And  the  obscurity  of  his  birth — that  would  be  indeed  a 
stumbling-block.  O  Matilda,  I  hope  none  of  your  ancestors  ever 
fought  at  Poictiers  or  Agincourt !  If  it  were  not  for  the  veneration 
which  my  father  attaches  to  the  memory  of  old  Sir  Miles  Man- 
nering,  I  should  make  out  my  explanation  with  half  the  tremor 
which  must  now  attend  it.' 

Seventh  Extract 

'I  have  this  instant  received  your  letter — your  most  welcome  letter ! 
Thanks,  my  dearest  friend,  for  your  sympathy  and  your  counsels — 
I  can  only  repay  them  with  unbounded  confidence. 


GUY    MANNERING  147 

'You  ask  me  what  Brown  is  by  origin,  that  his  descent  should  be 
so  unpleasing  to  my  father.  His  story  is  shortly  told.  He  is  of 
Scottish  extraction ;  but,  being  left  an  orphan,  his  education  was 
undertaken  by  a  family  of  relations  settled  in  Holland.  He  was 
bred  to  commerce,  and  sent  very  early  to  one  of  our  settlements  in 
the  East,  where  his  guardian  had  a  correspondent.  But  this  corre- 
spondent was  dead  when  he  arrived  in  India,  and  he  had  no  other 
resource  than  to  offer  himself  as  a  clerk  to  a  counting-house.  The 
breaking  out  of  the  war,  and  the  straits  to  which  we  were  at  first 
reduced,  threw  the  army  open  to  all  young  men  who  were  disposed 
to  embrace  that  mode  of  life ;  and  Brown,  whose  genius  had  a  strong 
military  tendency,  was  the  first  to  leave  what  might  have  been  the 
road  to  wealth,  and  to  choose  that  of  fame.  The  rest  of  his  history 
is  well  known  to  you ; — but  conceive  the  irritation  of  my  father,  who 
despises  commerce  (though,  by  the  way,  the  best  part  of  his  prop- 
erty was  made  in  that  honourable  profession  by  my  great-uncle) 
and  has  a  particular  antipathy  to  the  Dutch — think  with  what  ear 
he  would  be  likely  to  receive  proposals  for  his  only  child  from 
Vanbeest  Brown,  educated  for  charity  by  the  house  of  Vanbeest 
and  Vanbruggen  !  O  ^'^tilda,  it  will  never  do — nay,  so  childish  am 
I,  I  hardly  can  help  sympathizing  with  his  aristocratic  feelings.  Mrs. 
Vanbeest  Brown  !  The  name  has  little  to  recommend  it,  to  be  sure. 
What  children  we  are  !' 

Eighth  Extract 

'It  is  all  over  now,  Matilda  !  I  shall  never  have  courage  to  tell 
my  father — nay.  most  deeply  do  I  fear  he  has  already  learned  my 
secret  from  another  quarter,  which  will  entirely  remove  the  grace  of 
my  communication,  and  ruin  whatever  gleam  of  hope  I  had  ventured 
to  connect  with  it.  Yesternight,  Brown  came  as  usual,  and  his 
flageolet  on  the  lake  announced  his  approach.  We  had  agreed  that 
he  should  continue  to  use  this  signal.  These  romantic  lakes  attract 
numerous  visitors,  who  indulge  their  enthusiasm  in  visiting  the 
scenery  at  all  hours,  and  we  hoped  that  if  Brown  were  noticed  from 
the  house,  he  might  pass  for  one  of  those  admirers  of  nature,  who 
was  giving  vent  to  his  feelings  through  the  medium  of  music.  The 
sounds  might  also  he  my  apology,  should  I  be  observed  on  the  balcony. 
But  last  night,  while  I  was  eagerly  enforcing  my  plan  of  a  full  con- 
fession to  my  father,  which  he  as  earnestly  deprecated,  we  heard 
the  window  of  Mr.  Mervyn's  library,  which  is  under  my  room,  open 
softly.  I  signed  to  Brown  to  make  his  retreat,  and  immediately 
re-entered,  with  some  faint  hopes  that  our  interview  had  not  been 
observed. 

'But,  alas !  Matilda,  these  hopes  vanished  the  instant  I  beheld 
Mr.  Mervyn's  countenance  at  breakfast  the  next  morning.  He 
looked  so  provokingly  intelligent  and  confidential,  that,  had  I  dared, 
I  could  have  been  more  angry  than  ever  I  was  in  my  life.  But  I 
must  be  on  good  behaviour,  and  my  walks  are  now  limited  within 
his  farm  precincts,  where  the  good  gentleman  can  amble  along  by 


148  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

my  side  without  inconvenience.  I  have  detected  him  once  or  twice 
attempting  to  sound  my  thoughts,  and  watch  the  expression  of  my 
countenance.  He  has  talked  of  the  flageolet  more  than  once ;  and 
has  at  diiTerent  times  made  eulogiums  upon  the  watchfulness  and 
ferocity  of  his  dogs,  and  the  regularity  with  which  the  keeper  makes 
his  rounds  with  a  loaded  fowling-piece.  He  mentioned  even  man- 
traps and  spring-guns.  I  should  be  loath  to  affront  my  father's  old 
friend  in  his  own  house ;  but  I  do  long  to  show  him  that  I  am  my 
father's  davighter,  a  fact  of  which  Mr.  Mervyn  will  certainly  be  con- 
vinced, if  ever  I  trust  my  voice  and  temper  with  a  reply  to  these 
indirect  hints.  Of  one  thing  I  am  certain — I  am  grateful  to  him  on 
that  account — he  has  not  told  Mrs.  Mervyn.  Lord  help  me,  I  should 
have  had  such  lectures  about  the  dangers  of  love  and  the  night  air 
on  the  lake,  the  risk  arising  from  colds  and  fortune-hunters,  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  sack-whey  and  closed  windows  !  I  cannot 
help  trifling,  Matilda,  though  my  heart  is  sad  enough.  What  Brown 
will  do  I  cannot  guess.  I  presume,  however,  the  fear  of  detection 
prevents  his  resuming  his  nocturnal  visits.  He  lodges  at  an  inn  on 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake,  under  the  name,  he  tells  me,  of 
Dawson — he  has  a  bad  choice  in  names,  that  must  be  allowed.  He 
has  not  left  the  army,  I  believe,  but  he  says  nothing  of  his  present 
views. 

'To  complete  my  anxiety,  my  father  is  returned  suddenly,  and  in 
high  displeasure.  Our  good  hostess,  as  I  learned  from  a  bustling 
conversation  between  her  housekeeper  and  her,  had  no  expectation 
of  seeing  him  for  a  week ;  but  I  rather  suspect  his  arrival  was  no 
surprise  to  his  friend  Mr.  Mervyn.  His  manner  to  me  was  singularly 
cold  and  constrained — sufficiently  so  to  have  damped  all  the  courage 
with  which  I  once  resolved  to  throw  myself  on  his  generosity.  He 
lays  the  blame  of  his  being  discomposed  and  out  of  humour  to  the 
loss  of  a  purchase  in  the  south-west  of  Scotland,  on  which  he  had  set 
his  heart;  but  I  do  not  suspect  his  equanimity  of  being  so  easily 
thrown  off  its  balance.  His  first  excursion  was  with  Mr.  Mervyn's 
barge  across  the  lake,  to  the  inn  I  have  mentioned.  You  may 
imagine  the  agony  with  which  I  waited  his  return.  Had  he  recog- 
nized Brown,  who  can  guess  the  consequence?  He  returned,  how- 
ever, apparently  without  having  made  any  discovery.  I  understand, 
that  in  consequence  of  his  late  disappointment,  he  means  now  to  hire 
a  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  same  Ellangowan,  of  which  I 
am  doomed  to  hear  so  much — he  seems  to  think  it  probable  that  the 
estate  for  which  he  wishes  may  soon  be  again  in  the  market.  I  will 
not  send  away  this  letter  until  I  hear  more  distinctly  what  are  his 
intentions.' 

'I  have  now  had  an  interview  with  my  father,  as  confidential  as, 
I  presume,  he  means  to  allow  me.  He  requested  me  to-day,  after 
breakfast,  to  walk  with  him  into  the  library:  my  knees,  Matilda, 
shook  under  me,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  I  could  scarce 
follow  him  into  the  room.  I  feared  I  knew  not  what:  from  my 
childhood  I  had  seen  all  around  him  tremble  at  his  frown.  He 
motioned   me   to    seat    myself,   and    I    never   obeyed   a   command   so 


i 


GUY   MANNERING  149 

readily,  for,  in  truth,  I  could  hardly  stand.  He  himself  continued 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  You  have  seen  my  father,  and 
noticed,  I  recollect,  the  remarkably  expressive  cast  of  his  features. 
His  eyes  are  naturally  rather  light  in  colour,  but  agitation  or  anger 
gives  them  a  darker  and  more  fiery  glance ;  he  has  a  custom  also  of 
drawing  in  his  lips,  when  much  moved,  which  implies  a  combat 
between  native  ardour  of  temper  and  the  habitual  power  of  self- 
command.  This  was  the  first  time  we  had  been  alone  since  his 
return  from  Scotland,  and,  as  he  betrayed  these  tokens  of  agitation, 
I  had  little  doubt  that  he  was  about  to  enter  upon  the  subject  I 
most  dreaded. 

'To  my  unutterable  relief,  I  found  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  what- 
ever he  knew  of  Mr.  Mervyn's  suspicions  or  discoveries,  he  did  not 
intend  to  converse  with  me  on  the  topic.  Coward  as  I  was,  I  was 
inexpressibly  relieved,  though  if  he  had  really  investigated  the  reports 
which  may  have  come  to  his  ear,  the  reality  could  have  been  nothing 
to  what  his  suspicions  might  have  conceived.  But  though  my 
spirits  rose  high  at  my  unexpected  escape,  I  had  not  courage  myself 
to  provoke  the  discussion,  and  remained  silent  to  receive  his 
commands. 

'  "Julia,"  he  said,  "my  agent  writes  me  from  Scotland,  that  he  has 
been  able  to  hire  a  house  for  me,  decently  furnished,  and  with  the 
necessary   accommodation    for   my    family — it   is   within   three   miles 

of  that  I  had  designed  to  purchase." Then  he  made  a  pause,  and 

seemed  to  expect  an  answer. 

'  "Whatever  place  of  residence  suits  you,  sir,  must  be  perfectly 
agreeable  to  me." 

'  "Umph  I — I  do  not  propose,  however,  Julia,  that  you  shall  reside 
quite  alone  in  this  house  during  the  winter." 

'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mervyn,  thought  I  to  myself. — "Whatever  company 
is  agreeable  to  you,  sir,"  I  answered  aloud 

'  "Oh,  there  is  a  little  too  much  of  this  universal  spirit  of  sub- 
mission ;  an  excellent  disposition  in  action,  but  your  constantly  re- 
peating the  jargon  of  it,  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  eternal  salaams  of 
our  black  dependants  in  the  East.  In  short,  Julia,  I  know  you  have 
a  relish  for  society,  and  I  intend  to  invite  a  young  person,  the 
daughter  of  a  deceased  friend,  to  spend  a  few  months  with  us." 

'  "Not  a  governess,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  papa!"  exclaimed  poor 
I,  my  fears  at  that  moment  totally  getting  the  better  of  my  prudence. 

'  "No,  not  a  governess.  Miss  Mannering,'  replied  the  Colonel,  some- 
what sternly,  "but  a  young  lady  from  whose  excellent  example,  bred 
as  she  has  been  in  the  school  of  adversity,  I  trust  you  may  learn 
the  art  to  govern  yourself," 

'To  answer  this  was  trenching  upon  too  dangerous  ground ;  so 
there  was  a  pause. 

'"Is  the  young  lady  a  Scotchwoman,  papa?" 

I  "Yes"— dryly   enough. 

'"Has  she  much  of  the  accent,  sir?" 

'  "Much  of  the  devil !"  answered  my  father  hastily :  "do  you  think 
I  care  about  as  and  aa's,  and  t's  and  ee's? — I  tell  you,  Julia,  I  am 


150  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

serious  in  the  matter.  You  have  a  genius  for  friendship,  that  is, 
for  running  up  intimacies  which  you  call  such" — (was  not  this  very 
harshly  said,  Matilda?)  "Now  I  wish  to  give  you  an  opportunity  at 
least  to  make  one  deserving  friend;  and  therefore  I  have  resolved 
that  this  young  lady  shall  be  a  member  of  my  family  for  some 
months,  and  I  expect  you  to  pay  her  the  attention  which  is  due  to 
misfortune  and  virtue." 

'"Certainly,   sir.    Is  my  future  friend  red-haired?" 

'He  gave  me  one  of  his  stern  glances ;  you  will  say,  perhaps,  I 
deserved  it ;  but  I  think  the  deuce  prompts  me  with  teasing  questions 
on  some  occasions. 

'  "She  is  as  superior  to  you,  my  love,  in  personal  appearance,  as 
in  prudence  and  affection  for  her  friends." 

'"Lord,  papa,  do  you  think  that  superiority  a  recommendation? 
— Well,  sir,  but  I  see  you  are  going  to  take  all  this  too  seriously  : 
whatever  the  young  lady  may  be,  I  am  sure,  being  recommended  by 
you,  she  shall  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  my  want  of  attention." 
—  (After  a  pause) — "Has  she  any  attendant?  because  you  know  I 
must  provide  for  her  proper  accommodation  if  she  is  without  one." 

'  "N — no — no — not  properly  an  attendant — the  chaplain  who  lived 
with  her  father  is  a  very  good  sort  of  man,  and  I  believe  I  shall 
make  room  for  him  in  the  house.' 

'  "Chaplain,  papa  ?     Lord  bless  us  !" 

'  "Yes,  Miss  Mannering,  chaplain  ;  is  there  anything  very  new  in 
that  word?  Had  we  not  a  chaplain  at  the  Residence,  when  wc  were 
in  India?" 

'  "Yes,  papa,  but  you  was  a  commandant  then." 

'  "So  I  will  be  now,  Miss  Mannering, — in  my  own  family  at  least." 

*  "Certainly,  sir.  But  will  he  read  us  the  Church  of  England 
Service?" 

'The  apparent  simplicity  with  which  I  asked  this  question  got  the 
better  of  his  gravity.  "Come,  Julia,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  sad  girl, 
but  I  gain  nothing  by  scolding  you.  Of  these  two  strangers,  the 
young  lady  is  one  whom  you  cannot  fail.  I  think,  to  love ; — the  person 
whom,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  I  called  chaplain,  is  a  very  worthy 
and  somewhat  ridiculous  personage,  who  will  never  find  out  you 
laugh   at  him,   if  you  don't  laugh  very  loud   indeed." 

'  "Dear  papa !  I  am  delighted  with  that  part  of  his  character.  But 
pray,   is  the  house  we  are  going   to  as  pleasantly  situated   as   this  ?" 

'  "Not,  perhaps,  as  much  to  your  taste — there  is  no  lake  under 
the  windows,  and  you  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  having  all  your 
music  within  doors." 

'This  last  coup  de  main  ended  the  keen  encounter  of  our  wits ; 
for  you  may  believe,  Matilda,  it  quelled  all  my  courage  to  reply. 

'Yet  my  spirits,  as  perhaps  will  appear  too  manifest  from  this 
dialogue,  have  risen  insensibly,  and,  as  it  were,  in  spite  of  myself. 
Brown  alive,  and  free,  and  in  England !  Embarrassment  and  anxiety 
I  can  and  must  endure.  We  leave  this  in  two  days  for  our  new 
residence.  I  shall  not  fail  to  let  you  know  what  I  think  of  these 
Scotch   inmates,   whom   I   have  but  too  much  reason  to   believe  my 


GUY    MANNERING  151 

father  means  to  quarter  in  his  house  as  a  brace  of  honourable  spies; 
a  sort  of  female  Rosencrantz  and  reverend  Guildenstern,  one  in 
tartan  petticoats,  the  other  in  a  cassock.  What  a  contrast  to  the 
society  I  would  willingly  have  secured  to  myself.  I  shall  write  in- 
stantly on  my  arriving  at  our  new  place  of  abode,  and  acquaint  my 
dearest  Matilda  with  the  further  fates  of — her 

'Julia  Mannering.' 


CHAPTER   XIX 

Which   sloping   hills   around   enclose. 
Where  many  a  beech  and  brown  oak  grows, 
Beneath  whose  dark  and  branches  bowers, 
Its   tides   a   far-famed   river   pours, 
By  nature's  beauties  taught  to  please, 
Sweet  Tusculan  of  rural  ease  ! 

Warton. 

WOODBOURNE,  the  habitation  which  Mannering, 
by  Mr.  Mac-Morlan's  mediation,  had  hired  for  a 
season,  was  a  large,  comfortable  mansion,  snugly 
situated  beneath  a  hill  covered  with  wood,  which  shrouded 
the  house  upon  the  north  and  east ;  the  front  looked  upon  a 
little  lawn  bordered  by  a  grove  of  old  trees;  beyond  were 
some  arable  fields,  extending  down  to  the  river,  which  was 
seen  from  the  windows  of  the  house.  A  tolerable,  though 
old-fashioned  garden,  a  well-stocked  dove-cot,  and  the  pos- 
session of  any  quantity  of  grounds  which  the  convenience  of 
the  family  might  require,  rendered  the  place  in  every  respect 
suitable,  as  the  advertisements  have,  'for  the  accommodation 
of  a  genteel  family.' 

Here,  then,  Mannering  resolved,  for  some  time  at  least, 
to  set  up  the  staff  of  his  rest.  Though  an  East-Indian,  he 
was  not  partial  to  an  ostentatious  display  of  wealth.  In 
fact,  he  was  too  proud  a  man  to  be  a  vain  one.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  to  place  himself  upon  the  footing  of  a  country 
gentleman  of  easy  fortune,  without  assuming,  or  permitting 
his  household  to  assume,  any  of  the  fastc  which  then  was 
considered  as  characteristic  of  a  nabob. 

He  had  still  his  eye  upon  the  purchase  of  Ellangowan, 
which  Mac-Morlan  conceived  Mr.  Glossin  would  be  com- 
pelled to  part  with,  as  some  of  the  creditors  disputed  his 
title  to  retain  so  large  a  part  of  the  purchase-money  in  his 
own  hands,  and  his  power  to  pay  it  was  much  questioned. 
In  that  case  Mac-Morlan  was  assured  he  would  readily  give 
up  his  bargain,  if  tempted  with  something  above  the  price 

153 


GUY    MANNERIXG  153 

which  he  had  stipulated  to  pay.  It  may  seem  strange  that 
Mannering  was  so  much  attached  to  a  spot  which  he  had 
only  seen  once,  and  that  for  a  short  time,  in  early  life.  But 
the  circumstances  which  passed  there  had  laid  a  strong  hold 
on  his  imagination.  There  seemed  to  be  a  fate  which  con- 
joined the  remarkable  passages  of  his  own  family  history 
with  those  of  the  inhabitants  of  Ellangowan,  and  he  felt  a 
mysterious  desire  to  call  the  terrace  his  own,  from  which  he 
had  read  in  the  book  of  heaven  a  fortune  strangely  accom- 
plished in  the  person  of  the  infant  heir  of  that  family,  and 
corresponding  so  closely  with  one  which  had  been  strikingly 
fulfilled  in  his  own.  Besides,  when  once  this  thought  had 
got  possession  of  his  imagination,  he  could  not  without  great 
reluctance  brook  the  idea  of  his  plan  being  defeated,  and  by 
a  fellow  like  Glossin.  So  pride  came  to  the  aid  of  fancy, 
and  both  combined  to  fortify  his  resolution  to  buy  the  estate 
if  possible. 

Let  us  do  Mannering  justice.  A  desire  to  serve  the  dis- 
tressed had  also  its  share  in  determining  him.  He  had  con- 
sidered the  advantage  which  Julia  might  receive  from  the 
company  of  Lucy  Bertram,  whose  genuine  prudence  and 
good  sense  could  so  surely  be  relied  upon.  This  idea  had  be- 
come much  stronger  since  Mac-Morlan  had  confided  to  him, 
under  the  solemn  seal  of  secrecy,  the  whole  of  her  conduct 
towards  young  Hazlewood.  To  propose  to  her  to  become  an 
inmate  of  his  family,  if  distant  from  the  scenes  of  her  youth 
and  the  few  whom  she  called  friends,  would  have  been  less 
delicate;  but  at  Woodbourne  she  might  without  difficulty  be 
induced  to  become  the  visitor  of  a  season,  without  being  de- 
pressed into  the  situation  of  an  humble  companion.  Lucy 
Bertram,  with  some  hesitation,  accepted  the  invitation  to  re- 
side a  few  weeks  with  Miss  Mannering.  She  felt  too  well, 
that,  however  the  Colonel's  delicacy  might  disguise  the  truth, 
his  principal  motive  was  a  generous  desire  to  afford  her  his 
countenance  and  protection,  which  his  high  connexions  and 
higher  character  were  likely  to  render  influential  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

About  the  same  time  the  orphan  girl  received  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Bertram,  the  relation  to  whom  she  had  written,  as  cold 
and  comfortless   as   could   well   be   imagined.     It   enclo.scd 


154  SIR    M^ALTER    SCOTT 

indeed,  a  small  sum  of  money,  but  strongly  recommended 
economy,  and  that  Miss  Bertram  should  board  herself  in 
some  quiet  family,  either  at  Kippletringan,  or  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, assuring  her,  that  though  her  own  income  was  very 
scanty,  she  would  not  see  her  kinswoman  want.  Miss  Ber- 
tram shed  some  natural  tears  over  this  cold-hearted  epistle ; 
for,  in  her  mother's  time,  this  good  lady  had  been  a  guest  at 
Ellangowan  for  nearly  three  years,  and  it  was  only  upon 
succeeding  to  a  property  of  about  £400  a  year  that  she  had 
taken  farewell  of  that  hospitable  mansion,  which  otherwise 
might  have  had  the  honour  of  sheltering  her  until  the  death 
of  its  owner.  Lucy  was  strongly  inclined  to  return  the  paltry 
donation,  which,  after  some  struggles  with  avarice,  pride 
had  extorted  from  the  old  lady.  But,  on  consideration,  she 
contented  herself  with  writing,  that  she  accepted  it  as  a  loan, 
which  she  hoped  in  a  short  time  to  repay,  and  consulted  her 
relative  upon  the  invitation  she  had  received  from  Colonel 
and  Miss  Mannering.  This  time  the  answer  came  in  course 
of  post,  so  fearful  was  Mrs.  Bertram  that  some  frivolous 
delicacy,  or  nonsense,  as  she  termed  it,  might  induce  her 
cousin  to  reject  such  a  promising  offer,  and  thereby  at  the 
same  time  to  leave  herself  still  a  burden  upon  her  relations. 
Lucy,  therefore,  had  no  alternative,  unless  she  preferred  con- 
tinuing a  burden  upon  the  worthy  Mac-Morlans,  who  were 
too  liberal  to  be  rich.  Those  kinsfolk,  who  formerly  requested 
the  favour  of  her  company,  had  of  late,  either  silently,  or 
with  expressions  of  resentment  that  she  should  have  pre- 
ferred Mac-Morlan's  invitation  to  theirs,  gradually  with- 
drawn their  notice. 

The  fate  of  Dominie  Sampson  would  have  been  deplorable 
had  it  depended  upon  any  one  except  Mannering,  who  was 
an  admirer  of  originality;  for  a  separation  from  Lucy  Ber- 
tram would  have  certainly  broken  his  heart.  Mac-Morlan 
had  given  a  full  account  of  his  proceedings  towards  the 
daughter  of  his  patron.  The  answer  was  a  request  from 
Mannering  to  know,  whether  the  Dominie  still  possessed 
that  admirable  virtue  of  taciturnity  by  which  he  was  so 
notably  distinguished  at  Ellangowan.— -Mac-Morlan  replied 
in  the  affirmative. — 'Let  Mr.  Sampson  know,'  said  the 
Colonel's  next  letter,   'that  I   shall   want  his   assistance   to 


GUY    MANNERIXG  155 

catalogue  and  put  in  order  the  library  of  my  uncle,  the 
bishop,  which  I  have  ordered  to  be  sent  down  by  sea.  I  shall 
also  want  him  to  copy  and  arrange  some  papers.  Fix  his 
salary  at  what  you  think  befitting.  Let  the  poor  man  be 
properly  dressed,  and  accompany  his  young  lady  to  Wood- 
bourne.' 

Honest  Mac-]\Iorlan  received  this  mandate  with  great  joy. 
but  pondered  much  upon  executing  that  part  of  it  which 
related  to  newly  attiring  the  worthy  Dominie.  He  looked  at 
him  with  a  scrutinizing  eye,  and  it  was  but  too  plain  that  his 
present  garments  were  daily  waxing  more  deplorable.  To 
give  him  money,  and  bid  him  go  and  furnish  himself,  would 
be  only  giving  him  the  means  of  making  himself  ridiculous: 
for  when  such  a  rare  event  arrived  to  Mr.  Sampson  as  the 
purchase  of  new  garments,  the  additions  which  he  made  to  his 
wardrobe  by  the  guidance  of  his  own  taste,  usually  brought 
all  the  boys  of  the  village  after  him  for  many  days.  On  the 
other  hand,  to  bring  a  tailor  to  measure  him,  and  send  home 
his  clothes  as  for  a  schoolboy,  would  probably  give  offence. 
At  length  Mac-I\Iorlan  resolved  to  consult  ?.Iiss  Bertram  and 
request  her  interference.  She  assured  him.  that  though  she 
could  not  pretend  to  superintend  a  gentleman's  wardrobe, 
nothing  was  more  easy  than  to  arrange  the  Dominie's. 

'At  Ellangowan,*  she  said,  'whenever  my  poor  father 
thought  any  part  of  the  Dominie's  dress  wanted  renewal,  a 
servant  was  directed  to  enter  his  room  by  night,  for  he 
sleeps  as  fast  as  a  dormouse,  carry  off  the  old  vestment,  and 
leave  the  new  one ; — nor  could  any  one  observe  that  the 
Dominie  exhibited  the  least  consciousness  of  the  change  put 
upon  him  on  such  occasions.' 

Mac-Morlan,  in  conformity  with  Miss  Bertram's  advice, 
procured  a  skilful  artist,  who,  on  looking  at  the  Dominie 
attentively,  undertook  to  make  for  him  two  suits  of  clothes, 
one  black,  and  one  raven-grey,  and  even  engaged  that  they 
should  fit  him — as  well  at  least  (so  the  tailor  qualified  his 
enterprise)  as  a  man  of  such  an  out-of-the-way  build  could 
be  fitted  by  merely  human  needles  and  shears.  When  this 
fashioner  had  accomplished  his  task,  and  the  dresses  were 
brought  home.  Mac-Morlan.  judiciously  resolving  to  accom- 
plish  his   purpose   by   degrees,    withdrew    that   evening   an 


156  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

important  part  of  his  dress,  and  substituted  the  new  article 
of  raiment  in  its  stead.  Perceiving  that  this  passed  totally 
without  notice,  he  next  ventured  on  the  waistcoat,  and 
lastly  on  the  coat.  When  fully  metamorphosed,  and  arrayed 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  in  a  decent  dress,  they  did 
observe,  that  the  Dominie  seemed  to  have  some  indistinct 
and  embarrassing  consciousness  that  a  change  had  taken 
place  on  his  outward  man.  Whenever  they  observed  this 
dubious  expression  gather  upon  his  countenance,  accom- 
panied with  a  glance,  that  fixed  now  upon  the  sleeve  of 
his  coat,  now  upon  the  knees  of  his  breeches,  where  he 
probably  missed  some  antique  patching  and  darning,  which, 
being  executed  with  blue  thread  upon  a  black  ground,  had 
somewhat  the  effect  of  embroidery,  they  always  took  care 
to  turn  his  attention  into  some  other  channel,  until  his  gar- 
ments, 'by  the  aid  of  use,  cleaved  to  their  mould.'  The  only 
remark  he  was  ever  known  to  make  on  the  subject  was, 
that  the  'air  of  a  town  like  Kippletringan  seemed  favourable 
unto  wearing  apparel,  for  he  thought  his  coat  looked  almost 
as  new  as  the  first  day  he  put  it  on,  which  was  when  he  went 
to  stand  trial  for  his  license  as  a  preacher.' 

When  the  Dominie  first  heard  the  liberal  proposal  of 
Colonel  Mannering,  he  turned  a  jealous  and  doubtful  glance 
towards  Miss  Bertram,  as  if  he  suspected  that  the  project 
involved  their  separation ;  but  when  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  has- 
tened to  explain  that  she  would  be  a  guest  at  Woodbourne 
for  some  time,  he  rubbed  his  huge  hands  together,  and  burst 
into  a  portentious  sort  of  chuckle,  like  that  of  the  Afrite  in 
the  tale  of  the  Caliph  Vathek.  After  this  unusual  explosion 
of  satisfaction,  he  remained  quite  passive  in  all  the  rest  of  the 
transaction. 

It  had  been  settled  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mac-Morlan  should 
take  possession  of  the  house  a  few  days  before  Mannering's 
arrival,  both  to  put  everything  in  perfect  order,  and  to  make 
the  transference  of  Miss  Bertram's  residence  from  their 
family  to  his  as  easy  and  delicate  as  possible.  Accordingly, 
'in  the  beginning  of  the  month  of  December  the  party  were 
settled  at  Woodbourne. 


CHAPTER   XX 

A  gigantic  genius,  fit  to  grapple  with  whole  libraries. 

Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson. 

THE  appointed  day  arrived,  when  the  Colonel  and  Miss 
Mannering  were  expected  at  Woodbourne.  The  hour 
was  fast  approaching,  and  the  little  circle  within  doors 
had  each  their  separate  subjects  of  anxiety.  Mac-Morlan 
naturally  desired  to  attach  to  himself  the  patronage  and 
countenance  of  a  person  of  JNIannering's  wealth  and  conse- 
quence. He  was  aware,  from  his  knowledge  of  mankind, 
tliat  Mannering,  though  generous  and  benevolent,  had  the 
foible  of  expecting  and  exacting  a  minute  compliance  with 
his  directions.  He  was  therefore  racking  his  recollection  to 
discover  if  everything  had  been  arranged  to  meet  the 
Colonel's  wishes  and  instructions,  and,  under  this  uncertainty 
of  mind,  he  traversed  the  house  more  than  once  from  the 
garret  to  the  stables.  Mrs.  Mac-Morlan  revolved  in  a  lesser 
orbit,  comprehending  the  dining  parlour,  housekeeper's  room, 
and  kitchen.  She  was  only  afraid  that  the  dinner  might  be 
spoiled,  to  the  discredit  of  her  housewifely  accomplishments. 
Even  the  usual  passiveness  of  the  Dominie  was  so  far  dis- 
turbed, that  he  twice  went  to  the  window,  which  looked  out 
upon  the  avenue,  and  twice  exclaimed.  'Why  tarry  the  wheels 
of  their  chariot?'  Lucy,  the  most  quiet  of  the  expectants,  had 
her  own  melancholy  thoughts.  She  was  now  about  to  be 
consigned  to  the  charge,  almost  to  the  benevolence,  of 
strangers,  with  whose  character,  though  hitherto  very 
amiably  displayed,  she  was  but  imperfectly  acquainted.  The 
moments,  therefore,  of  suspense  passed  anxiously  and 
heavily. 

At  length  the  trampling  of  horses  and  the  sound  of  wheels 
were  heard.  The  servants,  who  had  already  arrived,  drew 
up  in  the  hall  to  receive  their  master  and  mistress,  with 
an  importance  and  cmprcsscmcnt.  which,  to  Lucy,  who  had 
never   been   accustomed   to    society,    or    witnessed    what   is 

157 


158  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

called  the  manners  of  the  great,  had  something  alarming. 
Mac-Morlan  went  to  the  door  to  receive  the  master  and 
mistress  of  the  family,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  in 
the  drawing-room. 

Mannering,  who  had  travelled,  as  usual,  on  horseback, 
entered  with  his  daughter  hanging  upon  his  arm.  She  was 
of  the  middle  size,  or  rather  less,  but  formed  with  much 
elegance;  piercing  dark  eyes,  and  jet  black  hair  of  great 
length,  corresponded  with  the  vivacity  and  intelligence  of 
features,  in  which  were  blended  a  little  haughtiness  and 
a  little  bashfulness,  a  great  deal  of  shrewdness,  and  some 
power  of  humorous  sarcasm.  *I  shall  not  like  her,'  was 
the  result  of  Lucy  Bertram's  first  glance;  'and  yet  I  rather 
think  I  shall,'  was  the  thought  excited  by  the  second. 

Miss  Mannering  was  furred  and  mantled  up  to  the  throat 
against  the  severity  of  the  weather ;  the  Colonel  in  his  mili- 
tary great-coat.  He  bowed  to  Mrs.  Mac-Morlan,  whom  his 
daughter  also  acknowledged  with  a  fashionable  curtsy,  not 
dropped  so  low  as  at  all  to  incommode  her  person.  The 
Colonel  then  led  his  daughter  up  to  Miss  Bertram,  and, 
taking  the  hand  of  the  latter,  with  an  air  of  great  kindness, 
and  almost  paternal  affection,  he  said,  'Julia,  this  is  the  young 
lady  whom  I  hope  our  good  friends  have  prevailed  on  to 
honour  our  house  with  a  long  visit.  I  shall  be  much  gratified 
indeed  if  you  can  render  Woodbourne  as  pleasant  to  Miss 
Bertram,  as  Ellangowan  was  to  me  when  I  first  came  as  a 
wanderer  into  this  country.' 

The  young  lady  curtsied  acquiescence,  and  took  her  new 
friend's  hand.  Mannering  now  turned  his  eye  upon  the 
Dominie,  who  had  made  bows  since  his  entrance  into  the 
room,  sprawling  out  his  leg,  and  bending  his  back  like  an 
automaton,  which  continues  to  repeat  the  same  movement, 
until  the  motion  is  stopped  by  the  artist.  'My  good  friend, 
Mr.  Sampson,' — said  Mannering,  introducing  him  to  his 
daughter,  and  darting  at  the  same  time  a  reproving  glance 
at  the  damsel,  notwithstanding  he  had  himself  some  dis- 
position to  join  her  too  obvious  inclination  to  risibility — 
'This  gentleman,  Julia,  is  to  put  my  books  in  order  when 
they  arrive,  and  I  expect  to  derive  great  advantage  from 
his  extensive  learning.' 


GUY    MANNERING  159 

'I  am  sure  we  are  obliged  to  the  gentleman,  papa — and, 
to  borrow  a  ministerial  mode  of  giving  thanks,  I  shall  never 
forget  the  extraordinary  countenance  he  has  been  pleased 
to  show  us. — But,  Miss  Bertram.'  continued  she  hastily,  for 
her  father's  brows  began  to  darken,  'we  have  travelled  a  good 
way, — will  you  permit  me  to  retire  before  dinner?' 

This  intimation  dispersed  all  the  company  save  the  Dominie, 
who,  having  no  idea  of  dressing  but  when  he  was  to  rise,  or 
of  undressing  but  when  he  meant  to  go  to  bed.  remained  by 
himself,  chewing  the  cud  of  a  mathematical  demonstration, 
until  the  company  again  assembled  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  from  thence  adjourned  to  the  dining-parlour. 

When  the  day  was  concluded,  Manncring  took  an  oppor- 
tunity to  hold  a  minute's  conversation  with  his  daughter  in 
private. 

'How  do  you  like  your  guests,  Julia?' 

'Oh,  Miss  Bertram  of  all  things. — But  this  is  a  most 
original  parson — why.  dear  sir.  no  human  being  will  be  able 
to  look  at  him  without  laughing.' 

'While  he  is  under  my  roof  Julia,  every  one  must  learn 
to  do  so.' 

'Lord,  papa,  the  very  footmen  could  not  keep  their  gravity  V 

'Then  let  them  strip  off  my  livery,'  said  the  Colonel,  'and 
laugh  at  their  leisure.  Mr.  Sampson  is  a  man  whom  I  esteem 
for  his  simplicity  and  benevolence  of  character.' 

'Oh,  I  am  convinced  of  his  generosity  too,'  said  this  lively 
lady:  'he  cannot  lift  a  spoonful  of  soup  to  his  mouth  with- 
out bestowing  a  share  on  everything  round.' 

'Julia,  you  are  incorrigible ; — but  remember,  I  expect  your 
mirth  on  this  subject  to  be  under  such  restraint,  that  it  shall 
neither  offend  this  worthy  man's  feelings  nor  those  of  Miss 
Bertram,  who  may  be  more  apt  to  feci  upon  his  account  than 
he  on  his  own.  And  so,  good  night,  my  dear ;  and  recollect 
that,  though  Mr.  Sampson  has  certainly  not  sacrificed  to  the 
graces,  there  are  many  things  in  this  world  more  truly  deserv- 
ing of  ridicule  than  cither  awkwardness  of  manners  or  sim- 
plicity of  character.' 

In  a  day  or  two  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mac-Morlan  left  Wood- 
bourne,  after  taking  an  affectionate  farewell  of  their  late 
guest.    The  household  were  now  settled  in  their  new  quar- 


160  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ters.  The  young  ladies  followed  their  studies  and  amuse- 
ments together.  Colonel  Mannering  was  agreeably  surprised 
to  find  that  Miss  Betram  was  well  skilled  in  French  and 
Italian — thanks  to  the  assiduity  of  Dominie  Sampson,  whose 
labour  had  silently  made  him  acquainted  with  most  modern 
as  well  as  ancient  languages.  Of  music  she  knew  little  or 
nothing,  but  her  new  friend  undertook  to  give  her  lessons ; 
in  exchange  for  which,  she  was  to  learn  from  Lucy  the 
habit  of  walking,  and  the  art  of  riding,  and  the  courage 
necessary  to  defy  the  season.  Mannering  was  careful  to 
substitute  for  their  amusement  in  the  evening  such  books  as 
might  convey  some  solid  instruction  with  entertainment,  and, 
as  he  read  aloud  with  great  skill  and  taste,  the  winter  nights 
passed  pleasantly  away. 

.Society  was  quickly  formed  where  there  were  so  many  in- 
ducements. Most  of  the  families  of  the  neighbourhood 
visited  Colonel  Mannering,  and  he  was  soon  able  to  select 
from  among  them  such  as  best  suited  his  taste  and  habits, 
Charles  Hazlewood  held  a  distinguished  place  in  his  favour, 
and  was  a  frequent  visitor,  not  without  the  consent  and  ap- 
probation of  his  parents ;  for  there  was  no  knowing,  they 
thought,  what  assiduous  attention  might  produce,  and  the 
beautiful  Miss  Mannering,  of  high  family,  with  an  Indian 
fortune,  was  a  prize  worth  looking  after.  Dazzled  with  such 
a  prospect,  they  never  considered  the  risk  which  had  once 
been  some  object  of  their  apprehension,  that  his  boyish  and 
inconsiderate  fancy  might  form  an  attachment  to  the  penni- 
less Lucy  Bertram,  who  had  nothing  on  earth  to  recommend 
her  but  a  pretty  face,  good  birth,  and  a  most  amiable  dis- 
position. Mannering  was  more  prudent.  He  considered 
himself  acting  as  Miss  Bertram's  guardian,  and  while  he  did 
not  think  it  incumbent  upon  him  altogether  to  check  her  in- 
tercourse with  a  young  gentleman  for  whom,  excepting  in 
wealth,  she  was  a  match  in  every  respect,  he  laid  it  under 
such  insensible  restraints  as  might  prevent  any  engagement 
or  eclaircisscmcnt  taking  place  until  the  young  man  should 
have  seen  a  little  more  of  life  and  of  the  world,  and  have 
attained  that  age  when  he  might  be  considered  as  entitled 
to  judge  for  himself  in  the  matter  in  which  his  happiness 
was  chiefly  interested. 


GUY    MANNER  I NG  161 

While  these  matters  engaged  the  attention  of  the  other 
members  of  the  Woodbourne  family,  Dominie  Sampson  was 
occupied,  body  and  soul,  in  the  arrangement  of  the  late 
bishop's  library,  which  had  been  sent  from  Liverpool  by  sea, 
and  conveyed  by  thirty  or  forty  carts  from  the  seaport  at 
which  it  was  landed.  Sampson's  joy  at  beholding  the  pon- 
derous contents  of  these  chests  arranged  upon  the  floor  of 
the  large  apartment,  from  whence  he  was  to  transfer  them 
to  the  shelves,  baffles  all  description.  He  grinned  like  an 
ogre,  swung  his  arms  like  the  sails  of  a  windmill,  shouted 
'Prodigious'  till  the  roof  rung  to  his  raptures.  'He  had  never,' 
he  said,  'seen  so  many  books  together,  except  in  the  College 
Library;'  and  now  his  dignity  and  delight  in  being  super- 
intendent of  the  collection,  raised  him,  in  his  own  opinion, 
almost  to  the  rank  of  the  academical  librarian,  whom  he  had 
always  regarded  as  the  greatest  and  happiest  man  on  earth. 
Neither  were  his  transports  diminished  upon  a  hasty  ex- 
amination of  the  contents  of  these  volumes.  Some,  indeed, 
of  belles  lettres,  poems,  plays,  or  memoirs,  he  tossed  indig- 
nantly aside,  with  the  implied  censure  of  'psha,'  or  'frivolous ;' 
but  the  greater  and  bulkier  part  of  the  collection  bore  a  very 
different  character.  The  deceased  prelate,  a  divine  of  the  old 
and  deeply-learned  cast,  had  loaded  his  shelves  with  volumes 
which  displayed  the  antique  and  venerable  attributes  so 
happily  described  by  a  modern  poet : 

That  weight  of  wood,  with  leathern  coat  o'erlaid. 

Those  ample  clasps  of  solid  metal  made, 

The  close-pressed  leaves  unoped  for  many  an  age, 

The  dull  red  edging  of  the  well-filled  page, 

On  the  broad  back  the  stubborn  ridges  rolled, 

Where  yet  the  title  stands  in  tarnished  gold. 

Books  of  theology  and  controversial  divinity,  commen- 
taries, and  polyglots,  sets  of  the  Fathers,  and  sermons, 
which  might  each  furnish  forth  ten  brief  discourses  of 
modern  date,  books  of  science,  ancient  and  modern,  classical 
authors  in  their  best  and  rarest  forms ;  such  formed  the  late 
bishop's  venerable  library,  and  over  such  the  eye  of  Dominie 
Sampson  gloated  with  rapture.  He  entered  them  in  the  cata- 
logue in  his  best  running  hand,  forming  each  letter  with  the 
accuracy  of  a  lover  writing  a  valentine,  and  placed  each  in- 


163  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

dividually  on  the  destined  shelf  with  all  the  reverence  which 
I  have  seen  a  lady  pay  to  a  jar  of  old  china.  With  all  this 
zeal  his  labours  advanced  slowly.  He  often  opened  a  volume 
when  half-way  up  the  library-steps,  fell  upon  some  interest- 
ing passage,  and,  without  shifting  his  inconvenient  posture, 
continued  immersed  in  the  fascinating  perusal  until  the  serv- 
ant pulled  him  by  the  skirts  to  assure  him  that  dinner 
waited.  He  then  repaired  to  the  parlour,  bolted  his  food 
down  his  capacious  throat  in  squares  of  three  inches,  an- 
swered aye  or  no  at  random  to  whatever  question  was  asked 
at  him,  and  again  hurried  back  to  the  library  as  soon  as  his 
napkin  was  removed,  and  sometimes  with  it  hanging  round 
his  neck  like  a  pinafore — 

How  happily  the  days 
Of  Thalaba  went  by ! 

And,  having  thus  left  the  principal  characters  of  our  tale 
in  a  situation  which,  being  sufficiently  comfortable  to  them- 
selves, is  of  course  utterly  uninteresting  to  the  reader,  we 
take  up  the  history  of  a  person  who  has  as  yet  only  been 
named,  and  who  has  all  the  interest  that  uncertainty  and  mis- 
fortune can  give. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

What  say'st  thou,  Wise-One? — that  all  powerful  Love 
Can   fortune's   strong  impediments  remove ; 
Nor  is  it  strange  that  worth  should  wed  to  worth, 
The  pride  of  genius  with  the  pride  of  birth. 

Crabbe, 

V  BROWN— I  will  not  give  at  full  length  his  thrice 
unhappy  name — had  been  from  infancy  a  ball  for 
•  fortune  to  spurn  at ;  but  nature  had  given  him  that 
elasticity  of  mind  which  rises  higher  from  the  rebound.  His 
form  was  tall,  manly,  and  active,  and  his  features  corre- 
sponded with  his  person;  for,  although  far  from  regular, 
they  had  an  expression  of  intelligence  and  good  humour,  and 
when  he  spoke,  or  was  particularly  animated,  might  be  de- 
cidedly pronounced  interesting.  His  manner  indicated  the 
military  profession,  which  had  been  his  choice  and  in  which 
he  had  now  attained  the  rank  of  Captain,  the  person  who  suc- 
ceeded Colonel  Mannering  in  his  command  having  laboured 
to  repair  the  injustice  which  Brown  had  sustained  by  that 
gentleman's  prejudice  against  him.  But  this,  as  vi^ell  as  his 
liberation  from  captivity,  had  taken  place  after  Mannering 
left  India.  Brown  followed  at  no  distant  period,  his  regi- 
ment being  recalled  home.  His  first  inquiry  was  after  the 
family  of  Mannering,  and,  easily  learning  their  route  north- 
ward, he  followed  it,  with  the  purpose  of  resuming  his  ad- 
dresses to  Julia.  With  her  father  he  deemed  he  had  no 
measures  to  keep;  for,  ignorant  of  the  more  venomous  belief 
which  had  been  instilled  into  the  Colonel's  mind,  he  regarded 
him  as  an  oppressive  aristocrat,  who  had  used  his  power  as 
a  commanding  officer  to  deprive  him  of  the  preferment  due 
to  his  behaviour,  and  who  had  forced  upon  him  a  personal 
quarrel,  without  any  better  reason  than  his  attentions  to  a 
pretty  young  woman,  agreeable  to  herself,  and  permitted  and 
countenanced  by  her  mother.  He  was  determined,  therefore, 
to  take  no  rejection  unless  from  the  young  lady  herself,  be- 

163 


164  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

lieving  that  the  heavy  misfortunes  of  his  painful  wound  and 
imprisonment  were  direct  injuries  received  from  the  father, 
which  might  dispense  with  his  using  much  ceremony  towards 
him.  How  far  his  scheme  had  succeeded  when  his  nocturnal 
visit  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Mervyn,  our  readers  are  already 
informed. 

Upon  this  unpleasant  occurrence,  Captain  Brown  absented 
himself  from  the  inn  in  which  he  had  resided  under  the 
name  of  Dawson,  so  that  Colonel  Mannering's  attempts  to 
discover  and  trace  him  were  unavailing.  He  resolved,  how- 
ever, that  no  difficulties  should  prevent  his  continuing  his 
enterprise,  while  Julia  left  him  a  ray  of  hope.  The  interest 
he  had  secured  in  her  bosom  was  such  as  she  had  been  unable 
to  conceal  from  him,  and  with  all  the  courage  of  romantic 
gallantry  he  determined  upon  perseverance.  But  we  believe 
the  reader  will  be  as  well  pleased  to  learn  his  mode  of  think- 
ing and  intentions  from  his  own  communication  to  his  special 
friend  and  confidant.  Captain  Delaserre,  a  Swiss  gentleman 
who  had  a  company  in  his  regiment. 

Extract 

'Let  me  hear  from  you  soon,  dear  Delaserre. — Remember,  I  can 
learn  nothing  about  regimental  affairs  but  through  your  friendly 
medium,  and  I  long  to  know  what  has  become  of  Ayre's  court-martial, 
and  whether  Elliot  gets  the  majority;  also  how  recruiting  comes  on, 
and  how  the  young  officers  like  the  mess.  Of  our  kind  friend,  the 
Lieutenant-Colonel,  I  need  ask  nothing;  I  saw  him  as  I  passed 
through  Nottingham,  happy  in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  What  a 
happiness  it  is,  Philip,  for  us  poor  devils,  that  we  have  a  little  resting- 
place  between  the  camp  and  the  grave,  if  we  can  manage  to  escape 
disease,  and  steel,  and  lead,  and  the  effects  of  hard  living.  A  retired 
old  soldier  is  always  a  graceful  and  respected  character.  He  grumbles 
a  little  now  and  then,  but  then  his  is  licensed  murmuring.  Were  a 
lawyer,  or  a  physician,  or  a  clergyman,  to  breathe  a  complaint  of 
hard  luck  or  want  of  preferment,  a  hundred  tongues  would  blame 
his  own  incapacity  as  the  cause ;  but  the  most  stupid  veteran  that  ever 
faltered  out  the  thrice-told  tale  of  a  siege  and  a  battle,  and  a  cock 
and  a  bottle,  is  listened  to  with  sympathy  and  reverence,  when  he 
shakes  his  thin  locks,  and  talks  with  indignation  of  the  boys  that 
are  put  over  his  head.  And  you  and  I,  Delaserre,  foreigners  both, 
— for  what  am  I  the  better  that  I  was  originally  a  Scotchman,  since, 
could  I  prove  my  descent,  the  English  would  hardly  acknowledge 
me  a  countryman  ? — we  may  boast  that  we  have  fought  at  our  prefer- 
ment,  and  gained   that  by  the   sword  which   we   had   not  money  to 


J 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  165 

compass  otherwise.  The  English  are  a  wise  people.  While  they 
praise  themselves,  and  afifect  to  undervalue  all  other  nations,  they 
leave  us,  luckily,  trap-doors  and  back-doors  open,  by  which  we 
strangers,  less  favoured  by  nature,  may  arrive  at  a  share  of  their 
advantages.  And  thus  they  are,  in  some  respects,  like  a  boastful 
landlord,  who  exalts  the  value  and  flavour  of  his  six-years-old  mut- 
ton, while  he  is  delighted  to  dispense  a  share  of  it  to  all  the  company. 
In  short,  you,  whose  proud  family,  and  I,  whose  hard  fate,  made  us 
soldiers  of  fortune,  have  the  pleasant  recollection,  that  in  the  British 
service,  stop  where  we  may  upon  our  career,  it  is  only  for  want  of 
money  to  pay  the  turnpike,  and  not  from  our  being  prohibited  to 
travel  the  road.  If,  therefore,  you  can  persuade  little  Weischel  to 
come  into  ours,  for  God's  sake  let  him  buy  the  ensigncy,  live  pru- 
dently, mind  his  duty,  and  trust  to  the  fates  for  promotion. 

'And  now,  I  hope  you  are  expiring  with  curiosity  to  learn  the  end 
of  my  romance.  I  told  you  I  had  deemed  it  convenient  to  make  a 
few  days'  tour  on  foot  among  the  mountains  of  Westmoreland  with 
Dudley,  a  young  English  artist,  with  whom  I  have  formed  some 
acquaintance.  A  fine  fellow  this,  you  must  know,  Delaserre — he 
paints  tolerably,  draws  beautifully,  converses  well,  and  plays  charm- 
ingly on  the  flute ;  and,  though  thus  well  entitled  to  be  a  coxcomb 
of  talent,  is,  in  fact,  a  modest  unpretending  young  man.  On  our 
return  from  our  little  tour,  I  learned  that  the  enemy  had  been  recon- 
noitring. Mr.  Mervyn's  barge  had  crossed  the  lake,  I  was  informed 
by  my  landlord,  with  the  squire  himself  and  a  visitor. 

'■'What  sort  of  person,  landlord?"' 

'  "Why,  he  was  a  dark  officer-looking  mon,  at  they  called  Colonel 
— Squoire  Marvyn  questioned  me  as  close  as  I  had  been  at  sizes — 
I  had  guess,  Mr.  Dawson"  (1  told  you  that  was  my  feigned  name)  — 
"But  I  tould  him  nought  of  your  vagaries,  and  going  out  a-laking  in 
the  mere  a-noights — not  I — an  I  can  make  no  sport,  I'se  spoil  none — 
and  Squoire  Mervyn's  as  cross  as  poy-crust  too,  mon — he  's  ay 
maundering  an  my  guests  but  land  beneath  his  house,  though  it  be 
marked  for  the  fourth  station  in  the  Survey.  Noa,  noa,  e'en  let  un 
smell  things  out  o'  themselves  for  Joe  Hodges " 

'You  will  allow  there  was  nothing  for  it  after  this,  but  paying 
honest  Joe  Hodges'  bill,  and  departing,  unless  I  had  preferred  making 
him  my  confidant,  for  which  I  felt  in  no  way  inclined.  Besides,  I 
learned  that  our  ci-dcvant  Colonel  was  on  full  retreat  for  Scotland, 
carrying  off  poor  Julia  along  with  him.  I  understand  from  those 
who  conduct  the  heavy  baggage,  that  he  takes  his  winter-quarters  at 

a  place  called   Woodbourne,   in   shire  in   Scotland.     He  will  be 

all  on  the  alert  just  now,  so  I  must  let  him  enter  his  entrenchments 
without  any  new  alarm.  And  then,  my  good  Colonel,  to  whom  I 
owe  so  many  grateful  thanks,  pray  look  to  your  defence. 

'I  protest  to  you,  Delaserre,  I  often  think  there  is  a  little  contra- 
diction enters  into  the  ardour  of  my  pursuit.  I  think  I  would  rather 
bring  this  haughty  insulting  man  to  the  necessity  of  calling  his 
daughter  Mrs.  Brown,  than  I  would  wed  her  with  his  full  consent, 
and  with  the  king's  permission  to  change  my  name  for  the  style  and 


166  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

arms  of  Mannering,  though  his  whole  fortune  went  with  them.  There 
is  only  one  circumstance  that  chills  me  a  little — Julia  is  young  and 
romantic.  I  would  not  willingly  hurry  her  into  a  step  which  her 
riper  years  might  disapprove. — No; — nor  would  I  like  to  have  her 
upbraid  me,  were  it  but  with  a  glance  of  her  eye,  with  having 
ruined  her  fortunes — far  less  give  her  reason  to  say,  as  some  have 
not  been  slow  to  tell  their  lords,  that,  had  I  left  her  time  for  con- 
sideration, she  would  have  been  wiser  and  done  better.  No, 
Delaserre — this  must  not  be.  The  picture  presses  close  upon  me, 
because  I  am  aware  a  girl  in  Julia's  situation  has  no  distinct  and 
precise  idea  of  the  value  of  the  sacrifice  she  makes.  She  knows 
difficulties  only  by  name  ;  and  if  she  thinks  of  love  and  a  farm,  it 
is  a  ferme  ornce,  such  as  is  only  to  be  found  in  poetic  description, 
or  in  the  park  of  a  gentleman  of  twelve  thousand  a  year.  She  would 
be  ill  prepared  for  the -privations  of  that  real  Swiss  cottage  we  have 
so  often  talked  of,  and  for  the  difficulties  which  must  necessarily 
surround  us  even  before  we  attained  that  haven.  This  must  be  a 
point  clearly  ascertained.  Although  Julia's  beauty  and  playful  tender- 
ness have  made  an  impression  on  my  heart  never  to  be  erased,  I 
must  be  satisfied  that  she  perfectly  understands  the  advantages  she 
forgoes,   before   she   sacrifices   them    for   my   sake. 

'Am  I  too  proud,  Delaserre,  when  I  trust  that  even  this  trial  may 
terminate  favourably  to  my  wishes? — Am  I  too  vain  when  I  suppose, 
that  the  few  personal  qualities  which  I  possess,  with  means  of  com- 
petence however  moderate,  and  the  determination  of  consecrating 
my  life  to  her  happiness,  may  make  amends  for  all  I  must  call  upon 
her  to  forgo?  Or  will  a  difference  of  dress,  of  attendance,  of  style, 
as  it  is  called,  of  the  power  of  shifting  at  pleasure  the  scenes  in 
which  she  seeks  amusement, — will  these  outweigh  in  her  estimation 
the  prospect  of  domestic  happiness,  and  the  interchange  of  unabating 
affection?  I  say  nothing  of  her  father; — his  good  and  evil  qualities 
are  so  strangely  mingled,  that  the  former  are  neutralized  by  the 
latter ;  and  that  which  she  must  regret  as  a  daughter  is  so  much 
blended  with  what  she  would  gladly  escape  from,  that  I  place  the 
separation  of  the  father  and  child  as  a  circumstance  which  weighs 
little  in  her  remarkable  case.  Meantime  I  keep  up  my  spirits  as  I 
may.  I  have  incurred  too  many  hardships  and  difficulties  to  be 
presumptuous  or  confident  in  success,  and  I  have  been  too  often 
and  too  wonderfully  extricated  from  them  to  be  despondent. 

'I  wish  you  saw  this  country.  I  think  the  scenery  would  delight 
you.  At  least  it  often  brings  to  my  recollection  your  glowing  de- 
scriptions of  your  native  country.  To  me  it  has  in  a  great  measure 
the  charm  of  novelty.  Of  the  Scottish  hills,  though  born  among 
them,  as  I  have  always  been  assured,  I  have  but  an  indistinct  recol- 
lection. Indeed,  my  memory  rather  dwells  upon  the  blank  which 
my  youthful  mind  experienced  in  gazing  on  the  levels  of  the  isle  of 
Zealand,  than  on  anything  which  preceded  that  feeling ;  but  I  am 
confident  from  that  sensation  as  well  as  from  the  recollections  which 
preceded  it,  that  hills  and  rocks  have  been  familiar  to  me  at  an 
early  period,  and  that  though  now  only  remembered  by  contrast,  and 


GUY    MAXXERING  167 

by  the  blank  which  I  felt  while  gazing  around  for  them  in  vain, 
they  must  have  made  an  indelible  impression  on  my  infant  imagina- 
tion. I  remember,  when  we  first  mounted  that  celebrated  pass  in 
the  Mysore  country,  while  most  of  the  others  felt  only  awe  and 
astonishment  at  the  height  and  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  I  rather 
shared  your  feelings  and  those  of  Cameron,  whose  admiration  of 
such  wild  rocks  was  blended  with  familiar  love,  derived  from  early 
association.  Despite  my  Dutch  education,  a  blue  hill  to  me  is  as  a 
friend,  and  a  roaring  torrent  like  the  sound  of  a  domestic  song  that 
hath  soothed  my  infancy.  I  never  felt  the  impulse  so  strongly  as  in 
this  land  of  lakes  and  mountains,  and  nothing  grieves  me  so  much 
as  that  duty  prevents  your  being  with  me  in  my  numerous  excursions 
among  its  recesses.  Some  drawings  I  have  attempted,  but  I  succeed 
vilely. — Dudley,  on  the  contrary,  draws  delightfully,  with  that  rapid 
touch  which  seems  like  magic,  while  1  labour  and  botch,  and  make 
this  too  heavy,  and  that  too  light,  and  produce  at  last  a  base  carica- 
ture. I  must  stick  to  the  flageolet,  for  music  is  the  only  one  of  the 
fine  arts  which  deigns  to  acknowledge  me. 

'Did  you  know  that  Colonel  Mannering  was  a  draughtsman  ? — I 
believe  not,  for  he  scorned  to  display  his  accomplishments  to  the 
view  of  a  subaltern.  He  draws  beautifully,  however.  Since  he  and 
Julia  left  Mervyn  Hall,  Dudley  was  sent  for  there.  The  Squire,  it 
seems,  wanted  a  set  of  drawings  made  up,  of  which  Mannering 
had  done  the  first  four,  but  was  interrupted,  by  his  hasty  departure, 
in  his  purpose  of  completing  them.  Dudley  says  he  has  seldom 
seen  anything  so  masterly,  though  slight ;  and  each  had  attached  to 
it  a  short  poetical  description.  Is  Saul,  you  will  say,  among  the 
prophets  ? — Colonel  Mannering  write  poetry  ! — Why,  surely  this  man 
must  have  taken  all  the  pains  to  conceal  his  accomplishments  that 
others  do  to  display  theirs.  How  reserved  and  unsociable  he  ap- 
peared among  us  ! — how  little  disposed  to  enter  into  any  conversation 
which  could  become  generally  interesting  ! — And  then  his  attachment 
to  that  unworthy  Archer,  so  much  below  him  in  every  respect ;  and 
all  this,  because  he  was  the  brother  of  Viscount  Archerfield,  a  poor 
Scottish  peer  !  I  think,  if  Archer  had  longer  survived  the  wounds 
in  the  affair  of  Cuddyboram,  he  would  have  told  something  that 
might  have  thrown  light  upon  the  inconsistencies  of  this  singular 
man's  character.  He  repeated  to  me  more  than  once,  "I  have  that 
to  say,  which  will  alter  your  hard  opinion  of  our  late  Colonel."  But 
death  pressed  him  too  hard ;  and  if  he  owed  me  any  atonement, 
which  some  of  his  expressions  seemed  to  imply,  he  died  before  it 
could  be  made. 

'I  propose  to  make  a  further  excursion  through  this  country  while 
this  fine  frosty  weather  serves,  and  Dudley,  almost  as  good  a  walker 
as  myself,  goes  with  me  for  some  part  of  the  way.  We  part  on  the 
borders  of  Cumberland,  when  he  must  return  to  his  lodgings  in 
Marybone,  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  and  labour  at  what  he  calls  the 
commercial  part  of  his  profession.  There  cannot,  he  says,  be  such 
a  difference  betwixt  any  two  portions  of  existence  as  between  that 
in   which  the   artist,   if   an   enthusiast,   collects   the   subjects    of   his 


168  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

drawings,  and  that  which  must  necessarily  be  dedicated  to  turning 
over  his  portifolio,  and  exhibiting  them  to  the  provoking  indifference, 
or  more  provoking  criticism,  of  fashionable  amateurs.  "During  the 
summer  of  my  year,"  says  Dudley,  "I  am  as  free  as  a  wild  Indian, 
enjoying  myself  at  liberty  amid  the  grandest  scenes  of  nature;  while, 
during  my  winters  and  springs,  I  am  not  only  cabined,  cribbed,  and 
confined  in  a  miserable  garret,  but  condemned  to  as  intolerable  sub- 
servience to  the  humour  of  others,  and  to  as  indifferent  company,  as 
if  I  were  a  literal  galley-slave."  I  have  promised  him  your  acquain- 
tance, Delaserre; — you  will  be  delighted  with  his  specimens  of  art, 
and  he  with  your  Swiss  fanaticism  for  mountains  and  torrents. 

'When  I  lose  Dudley's  company,  I  am  informed  that  I  can  easily 
enter  Scotland,  by  stretching  across  a  wild  country  in  the  upper 
part  of  Cumberland;  and  that  route  I  shall  follow,  to  give  the  Colonel 
time  to  pitch  his  camp  ere  I  reconnoitre  his  position. — Adieu ! 
Delaserre — I  shall  hardly  find  another  opportunity  of  writing  till  I 
reach   Scotland.' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Jog  on,  jog  on,  the   footpath  way, 

And   merrily   hent  the  stile-a ; 
A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day, 

A  sad  one  tires  in  a  mile-a. 

Winter's  Tale. 

IET  the  reader  conceive  to  himself  a  clear  frosty  Novem- 
.  ber  morning,  the  scene  an  open  heath,  having  for  the 
^  background  that  huge  chain  of  mountains  in  which 
Skiddaw  and  Saddleback  are  pre-eminent ;  let  him  look  along 
that  blind  road,  by  which  I  mean  the  track  so  slightly  marked 
by  the  passengers'  footsteps,  that  it  can  but  be  traced  by  a 
slight  shade  of  verdure  from  the  darker  heath  around  it,  and, 
being  only  visible  to  the  eye  when  at  some  distance,  ceases 
to  be  distinguished  while  the  foot  is  actually  treading  it", 
along  this  faintly-traced  path  advances  the  object  of  our 
present  narrative.  His  firm  step,  his  erect  and  free  carriage, 
have  a  military  air,  which  corresponds  well  with  his  well- 
proportioned  limbs,  and  stature  of  six  feet  high.  His  dress 
is  so  plain  and  simple,  that  it  indicates  nothing  as  to  rank: 
it  may  be  that  of  a  gentleman  who  travels  in  this  manner 
for  his  pleasure — or  of  an  inferior  person  of  whom  it  is  the 
proper  and  usual  garb.  Nothing  can  be  on  a  more  reduced 
scale  than  his  travelling  equipment.  A  volume  of  Shake- 
speare in  each  pocket,  a  small  bundle  with  a  change  of 
linen  slung  across  his  shoulders,  an  oaken  cudgel  in  his  hand, 
complete  our  pedestrian's  accommodations ;  and  in  this 
equipage  we  present  him  to  our  readers. 

Brown  had  parted  that  morning  from  his  friend  Dudley, 
and  began  his  solitary  walk  towards  Scotland. 

The  first  two  or  three  miles  were  rather  melancholy,  from 
want  of  the  society  to  which  he  had  of  late  been  accustomed. 
But  this  unusual  mood  of  mind  soon  gave  way  to  the 
influence  of  his  natural  good  spirits,  excited  by  the  exercise 
and  the  bracing  effects  of  the  frosty  air.     He  whistled  as 

169 


170  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

he  went  along, — not  'from  want  of  thought,'  but  to  give 
vent  to  those  buoyant  feeHngs  which  he  had  no  other  mode 
of  expressing.  For  each  peasant  whom  he  chanced  to  meet, 
he  had  a  kind  greeting  or  a  good-humoured  jest:  the  hardy 
Cumbrians  grinned  as  they  passed,  and  said,  'That's  a  kind 
heart,  God  bless  un !'  and  the  market-girl  looked  more  than 
once  over  her  shoulder  at  the  athletic  form,  which  corre- 
sponded so  well  with  the  frank  and  blithe  address  of  the 
stranger.  A  rough  terrier  dog,  his  constant  companion,  who 
rivalled  his  master  in  glee,  scampered  at  large  in  a  thousand 
wheels  round  the  heath,  and  came  back  to  jump  up  on  him 
and  assure  him  that  he  participated  in  the  pleasure  of  the 
journey.  Dr.  Johnson  thought  life  had  few  things  better 
than  the  excitation  produced  by  being  whirled  rapidly  along 
in  a  post-chaise ;  but  he  who  has  in  youth  experienced  the 
confident  and  independent  feeling  of  a  stout  pedestrian  in 
an  interesting  country  and  during  fine  weather,  will  hold 
the  taste  of  the  great  moralist  cheap  in  comparison. 

Part  of  Brown's  view  in  choosing  that  unusual  tract  which 
leads  through  the  eastern  wilds  of  Cumberland  into  Scot- 
land, had  been  a  desire  to  view  the  remains  of  the  celebrated 
Roman  Wall,  which  are  more  visible  in  that  direction  than  in 
any  other  part  of  its  extent.  His  education  had  been  imper- 
fect and  desultory;  but  neither  the  busy  scenes  in  which  he 
had  been  engaged,  nor  the  pleasures  of  youth,  nor  the  pre- 
carious state  of  his  own  circumstances,  had  diverted  him 
from  the  task  of  mental  improvement. — 'And  this,  then,  is 
the  Roman  Wall,'  he  said,  scrambling  up  to  a  height  which 
commanded  the  course  of  that  celebrated  work  of  antiquity 
'What  a  people!  whose  labours,  even  at  this  extremity  of 
their  empire,  comprehended  such  space,  and  were  executed 
upon  a  scale  of  such  grandeur!  In  future  ages,  when  the 
science  of  war  shall  have  changed,  how  few  traces  will  exist 
of  the  labours  of  Vauban  and  Coehorn,  while  this  wonderful 
people's  remains  will  even  then  continue  to  interest  and  as- 
tonish posterity!  Their  fortifications,  their  aqueducts,  their 
theatres,  their  fountains,  all  their  public  works,  bear  the 
.  grave,  solid,  and  majestic  character  of  their  language ;  while 
our  modern  labours  like  our  modern  tongues  seem  but  con- 
structed out  of  their  fragments.'    Having  thus  moralized,  he 


GUY    MAXXERING  171 

remembered  that  he  was  hungry,  and  pursued  his  walk  to  a 
small  public-house  at  which  he  proposed  to  get  some  refresh- 
ment. 

The  alehouse,  for  it  was  no  better,  was  situated  in  the 
bottom  of  a  little  dell,  through  which  trilled  a  small  rivulet. 
It  was  shaded  by  a  large  ash  tree,  against  which  the  clay- 
built  shed,  that  served  the  purpose  of  a  stable,  was  erected, 
and  upon  which  it  seemed  partly  to  recline.  In  this  shetl 
stood  a  saddled  horse,  employed  in  eating  his  corn.  The 
cottages  in  this  part  of  Cumberland  partake  of  the  rudeness 
which  characterizes  those  of  Scotland. — The  outside  of  the 
house  promised  little  for  the  interior,  nothwithstanding  the 
vaunt  of  a  sign,  where  a  tankard  of  ale  voluntarily  decanted 
itself  into  a  tumbler,  and  a  hieroglyphical  scrawl  below 
attempted  to  express  a  promise  of  'good  entertainment  for 
man  and  horse.'  Brown  was  no  fastidious  traveller — he 
stooped  and  entered  the  cabaret." 

The  first  object  which  caught  his  eye  in  the  kitchen,  was  a 
tall,  stout,  country-looking  man,  in  a  large  jockey  great-coat, 
the  owner  of  the  horse  which  stood  in  the  shed,  who  was 
busy  discussing  huge  slices  of  cold  boiled  beef,  and  casting 
from  time  to  time  an  eye  through  the  window,  to  see  how 
his  steed  sped  with  his  provender.  A  large  tankard  of 
ale  flanked  his  plate  of  victuals,  to  which  he  applied  himself 
by  intervals.  The  good  woman  of  the  house  was  employed 
in  baking.  The  fire,  as  is  usual  in  that  country,  was  on  a 
stone  hearth  in  the  midst  of  an  immensely  large  chimney, 
which  had  two  seats  extended  beneath  the  vent.  On  one 
of  these  sat  a  remarkably  tall  woman,  in  a  red  cloak  and 
slouched  bonnet,  having  the  appearance  of  a  tinker  or 
beggar.  She  was  busily  engaged  with  a  short  black  tobacco- 
pipe. 

At  the  request  of  Brown  for  some  food,  the  landlady 
wiped  with  her  mealy  apron  one  corner  of  the  deal  table, 
placed  a  wooden  trencher  and  knife  and  fork  before  the 
traveller,  pointed  to  the  round  of  beef,  recommended  Mr. 
Dinmont's  good  example,  and,  finally,  filled  a  brown  pitcher 
with  her  home-brewed.  Brown  lost  no  time  in  doing  ample 
credit  to  both.  For  a  while,  his  opposite  neighbour  and  he 
were  too  busy  to  take  much  notice  of  each  other,  except  by 

D-7 


173  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

a  good-humoured  nod  as  each  in  turn  raised  the  tankard  to 
his  head.  At  length,  when  our  pedestrian  began  to  supply 
the  wants  of  little  Wasp,  the  Scotch  store-farmer,  for  such 
was  Mr.  Dinmont,  found  himself  at  leisure  to  enter  into 
conversation. 

'A  bonny  terrier  that,  sir — and  a  fell  chield  at  the  vermin, 
I  warrant  him — that  is,  if  he's  been  weel  entered,  for  it  a' 
lies  in  that.' 

'Really,  sir,'  said  Brown,  'his  education  has  been  some- 
what neglected,  and  his  chief  property  is  being  a  pleasant 
companion.' 

'Aye,  sir? — that  's  a  pity,  begging  your  pardon — it  's  a 
great  pity  that — beast  or  body,  education  should  ay  be 
minded.  I  have  six  terriers  at  hame,  forbye  twa  couple  of 
slowhunds,  five  grews,  and  a  wheen  other  dogs.  There's 
auld  Pepper  and  auld  Mustard,  and  young  Pepper  and  young 
Mustard,  and  little  Pepper  and  little  Mustard ;  I  had  them  a' 
regularly  entered,  first  wi'  rottens — then  wi'  stots  or  weasels 
— and  then  wi'  the  tods  and  brocks — and  now  they  fear 
naething  that  ever  cam  wi'  a  hairy  skin  on  't.' 

'I  have  no  doubt,  sir,  they  are  thoroughbred — but,  to  have 
so  many  dogs,  you  seem  to  have  a  very  limited  variety  of 
names  for  them?' 

'Oh,  that  "s  a  fancy  of  my  ain  to  mark  the  breed,  sir — 
The  Deuke  himsell  has  sent  as  far  as  Charlies-hope  to  get 
ane  o'  Dandy  Dinmont's  Pepper  and  Mustard  terriers — Lord, 
man,  he  sent  Tam  Hudson'  the  keeper,  and  sicken  a  day 
as  we  had  wi'  the  fumarts  and  the  tods,  and  sicken  a 
blythe  gaedown  as  we  had  again  e'en  !  Faith,  that  was  a 
night !' 

'I  suppose  game  is  very  plenty  with  you?' 

'Plenty,  man  ! — I  believe  there's  mair  hares  than  sheep  on 
my  farm ;  and  for  the  moor-fowl,  or  the  grey-fowl,  they  lie 
as  thick  as  doos  in  a  dooket. — Did  ye  ever  shoot  a  black- 
cock, man?' 

'Really  I  had  never  even  the  pleasure  to  see  one,  except 
in  the  museum  at  Keswick.' 

'There  now — I  could  guess  that  by  your  Southland  tongue. 
It's  very  odd  of  these  English  folk  that  come  here,  how  few 

1  The  real  name  of  this  veteran  sportsman  is  now  I1829I  restored. 


GUY    MANNERTNG  17S 

of  them  has  seen  a  blackcock !  I'll  tell  you  what — ye  seem 
to  be  an  honest  lad,  and  if  you'll  call  on  me — on  Dandy  Din- 
mont — at  Charlies-hope — ye  shall  see  a  blackcock,  and  shoot 
a  blackcock,  and  eat  a  blackcock  too,  man.' 

'Why,  the  proof  of  the  matter  is  the  eating,  to  be  sure, 
sir;  and  I  shall  be  happy,  if  I  can  find  time,  to  accept  your 
invitation.' 

'Time,  man?  what  ails  ye  to  gae  hame  wi'  me  the  now? 
How  d'  ye  travel  ?* 

'On  foot,  sir;  and  if  that  handsome  pony  be  yours,  I 
should  find  it  impossible  to  keep  up  with  you.' 

'No,  unless  ye  can  walk  up  to  fourteen  mile  an  hour. 
But  ye  can  come  ower  the  night  as  far  as  Riccarton,  where 
there  is  a  public — or  if  ye  like  to  stop  at  Jockey  Grieve's 
at  the  Heuch,  they  would  be  biythe  to  see  ye,  and  I  am 
just  gaun  to  stop  and  drink  a  dram  at  the  door  wi'  him, 
and  I  would  tell  him  you're  coming  up ; — or  stay — Gude- 
wife,  could  ye  lend  this  gentleman  the  gudeman's  galloway, 
and  I'll  send  it  ower  the  Waste  in  the  morning  wi'  the 
callant  ?' 

The  galloway  was  turned  out  upon  the  fell,  and  was 
swear  to  catch. — 'Aweel,  aweel,  there  's  nae  help  for  't,  but 
come  up  the  morn  at  ony  rate. — And  now,  gudewife,  I  maun 
ride,  to  get  to  the  Liddel  or  it  be  dark,  for  your  Waste  has 
but  a  kittle  character,  ye  ken  yoursell.' 

'Hout  fie,  Mr.  Dinmont,  that  's  no  like  you,  to  gie  the  coun- 
try an  ill  name. — I  wot,  there  has  been  nane  stirred  in  the 
Waste  since  Sawney  Culloch,  the  travelling-merchant,  that 
Rowley  Overdees  and  Jock  Penny  suffered  for  at  Carlisle 
twa  years  since.  There  's  no  ane  in  Bewcastle  would  do  the 
like  o'  that  now — we  be  a'  true  folk  now.' 

'Ay,  Tib,  that  will  be  when  the  deil's  blind, — and  his  een's 
no  sair  yet.  But  hear  ye,  gudewife,  I  have  been  through 
maist  feck  o'  Galloway  and  Dumfries-shire,  and  I  have  been 
round  by  Carlisle,  and  I  was  at  the  Staneshiebank  fair  the 
day,  and  I  would  like  ill  to  be  rubbit  sae  near  hame — so  I'll 
take  the  gate.' 

'Hae  ye  been  in  Dumfries  and  Galloway?'  said  the  old 
dame,  who  sat  smoking  by  the  fireside,  and  who  had  not  yet 
spoken  a  word. 


174  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Troth  have  I.  gudewife,  and  a  weary  round  I've  had 
o't.' 

Then  ye'll  maybe  ken  a  place  they  ca'  Ellangowan  ?' 

'Ellangowan,  that  was  Mr.  Bertram's? — I  ken  the  place 
weel  eneugh.  The  Laird  died  about  a  fortnight  since,  as  I 
heard.' 

'Died!'  said  the  old  woman,  dropping  her  pipe,  and  rising 
and  coming  forward  upon  the  floor — 'died  ! — are  you  sure 
of  that?' 

'Troth,  am  I,'  said  Dinmont,  'for  it  made  nae  sma'  noise  in 
the  country-side.  He  died  just  at  the  roup  of  the  stocking 
and  furniture;  it  stoppit  the  roup,  and  mony  folk  were  dis- 
appointed. 

'They  said  he  was  the  last  of  an  auld  family  too,  and 
mony  were  sorry — for  gude  blude's  scarcer  in  Scotland  than 
it  has  been.' 

'Dead !'  replied  the  old  woman,  whom  our  readers  have 
already  recognized  as  their  acquaintance,  Meg  Merrilies — 
'dead !  that  quits  a'  scores.  And  did  ye  say  he  died  without 
an  heir?' 

'Aye  did  he,  gudewife,  and  the  estate's  sell'd  by  the  same 
token ;  for  they  said  they  couldna  have  sell'd  it,  if  there  had 
been  an  heir-male.' 

'Sell'd!'  echoed  the  gipsy,  with  something  like  a  scream; 
'and  wha  durst  buy  Ellangowan  that  was  not  of  Bertram's 
blude? — and  wha  could  tell  whether  the  bonny  knave-bairn 
may  not  come  back  to  claim  his  ain? — wha  durst  buy  the 
estate  and  the  castle  of  Ellangowan?' 

'Troth,  gudewife,  just  ane  o'  thae  writer  chields  that  buys 
a'  things — they  ca'  him  Glossin,  I  think.' 

'Glossin  ! — Gibbie  Glossin  ! — that  I  have  carried  in  my 
creels  a  hundred  times,  for  his  mother  wasna  muckle  better 
than  mysell — he  to  presume  to  buy  the  barony  of  Ellan- 
gowan ! — Gude  be  wi'  us — it  is  an  awfu'  warld !  I  wished 
him  ill — but  no  sic  a  downfa'  as  a'  that  neither:  wae  's  me! 
wae  's  me  to  think  o't !' — She  remained  a  moment  silent,  but 
still  opposing  with  her  hand  the  farmer's  retreat,  who, 
betwixt  every  question,  was  about  to  turn  his  back,  but  good- 
humouredly  stopped  on  observing  the  deep  interest  his  an- 
swers appeared  to  excite. 


GUY    MANNERING  175 

'It  will  be  seen  and  heard  of — earth  and  sea  will  not  hold 
their  peace  langer  ! — Can  ye  say  if  the  same  man  be  now  the 
Sheriff  of  the  county  that  has  been  sae  for  some  years  past?' 

'Na,  he  's  got  some  other  berth  in  Edinburgh,  they  say — 
but  gude  day.  gudewife,  I  maun  ride.' — She  followed  him 
to  his  horse,  and,  while  he  drew  the  girths  of  his  saddle, 
adjusted  the  walise  and  put  on  the  bridle,  still  plied  him  with 
questions  concerning  Mr.  Bertram's  death,  and  the  fate  of 
his  daughter ;  on  which,  however,  she  could  obtain  little 
information  from  the  honest  farmer. 

'Did  ye  ever  see  a  place  they  ca'  Derncleugh,  about  a  mile 
frae  the  place  of  EUangowan?' 

'I  wot  vveel  have  I,  gudewife, — a  wild-looking  den  it  is, 
wi'  a  whin  auld  wa's  o'  shealings  yonder.  I  saw  it  when 
I  gaed  ower  the  ground  wi'  ane  that  wanted  to  take  the 
farm.' 

'It  was  a  blyth  bit  ance !'  said  Meg,  speaking  to  herself. 
'Did  ye  notice  if  there  was  an  auld  saugh  tree  that  's  maist 
blawn  down,  but  yet  its  roots  are  in  the  earth,  and  it  hangs 
ower  the  bit  burn  ? — mony  a  day  hae  I  wrought  my  stocking, 
and  sat  on  my  sunkie  under  that  saugh.' 

'Hout,  deil's  i'  the  wife,  wi'  her  saughs,  and  her  sunkies. 
and  Ellangowans. — Godsake.  woman,  let  me  away; — 
there 's  saxpence  t'ye  to  buy  half  a  mutchkin,  instead  o' 
clavering  about  thae  auld  warld  stories.' 

'Thanks  to  ye,  gudeman — and  now  ye  hae  answered  a'  my 
questions  and  never  speired  wherefore  I  asked  them,  I'll 
gie  you  a  bit  canny  advice,  and  ye  maunna  speir  what  for 
neither.  Tib  Mumps  will  be  out  wi'  the  stirrup-dram  in  a 
gliffing;  she'll  ask  ye  whether  ye  gang  over  Willie's  brae  or 
through  Conscowthart-moss ; — tell  her  ony  ane  ye  like,  but 
be  sure'  (speaking  low  and  emphatically)  'to  tak  the  ane  ye 
dinna  tell  her.'  The  farmer  laughed  and  promised,  and  the 
gipsy  retreated. 

'Will  you  take  her  advice?'  said  Brown,  who  had  been  an 
attentive  listener  to  this  conversation. 

'That  will  I  no— the  randy  quean!  Na,  I  had  far  rather 
Tib  Mumps  kenn'd  which  way  I  was  gaun  than  her — though 
Tib's  no  muckle  to  lippen  to  neither,  and  I  would  advise  ye 
on  no  account  to  stay  in  the  house  a'  night.' 


176  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

In  a  moment  after,  Tib,  the  landlady,  appeared  with  her 
stirrup-cup,  which  was  taken  off.  She  then,  as  Meg  had  pre- 
dicted, inquired  whether  he  went  the  hill  or  the  moss  road. 
He  answered  the  latter;  and,  having  bid  Brown  good-bye. 
and  again  told  him  'he  depended  on  seeing  him  at  Charlies- 
hope,  the  morn  at  latest'  he  rode  off  at  a  round  pace. 


I 
i 


i 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Gallows  and  knock  are  too  powerful  on  the  highway. 

Winter's  Tale. 

f^W^HE  hint  of  the  hospitable  farmer  was  not  lost  on 
I  Brown.  But,  while  he  paid  his  reckoning,  he  could 
-JL  not  avoid  repeatedly  fixing  his  eyes  on  Meg  Merrilies. 
She  was,  in  all  respects,  the  same  witch-like  figure  as  when 
we  first  introduced  her  at  Ellangowan-Place.  Time  had 
grizzled  her  raven  locks,  and  added  wrinkles  to  her  wild 
features,  but  her  height  remained  erect  and  her  activity 
was  unimpaired.  It  was  remarked  of  this  woman,  as  of 
others  of  the  same  description,  that  a  life  of  action,  though 
not  of  labour,  gave  her  the  perfect  command  of  her  limbs 
and  figure,  so  that  the  attitudes  into  which  she  most  naturally 
threw  herself,  were  free,  unconstrained,  and  picturesque. 
At  present,  she  stood  by  the  window  of  the  cottage,  her 
person  drawn  up  so  as  to  show  to  full  advantage  her 
masculine  stature,  and  her  head  somewhat  thrown  back, 
that  the  large  bonnet  with  which  her  face  was  shrouded 
might  not  interrupt  her  steady  gaze  at  Brown.  At  every 
gesture  he  made,  and  every  tone  he  uttered,  she  seemed 
to  give  an  almost  imperceptible  start.  On  his  part,  he 
was  surprised  to  find  that  he  could  not  look  upon  this 
singular  figure  without  some  emotion.  'Have  I  dreamed 
of  such  a  figure?'  he  said  to  himself,  'or  does  this  wild 
and  singular-looking  woman  recall  to  my  recollection  some 
of  the  strange  figures  I  have  seen  in  our  Indian  pagodas?' 

While  he  embarrassed  himself  with  these  discussions,  and 
the  hostess  was  engaged  in  rummaging  out  silver  in  change 
of  half  a  guinea,  the  gipsy  suddenly  made  two  strides  and 
seized  Brown's  hand.  He  expected,  of  course,  a  display 
of  her  skill  in  palmistry,  but  she  seemed  agitated  by  other 
feelings. 

'Tell  me,'  she  said,  'tell  me,  in  the  name  of  God,  young 
man,  what  is  your  name,  and  whence  you  came?' 

177 


178  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'My  name  is  Brown,  mother,  and  I  come  from  the  East 
Indies.' 

'From  the  East  Indies !'  dropping  his  hand  with  a  sigh ; 
'it  cannot  be,  then — I  am  such  an  auld  fool,  that  everything 
I  look  on  seems  the  thing  I  want  maist  to  see.  But  the 
East  Indies ;  that  cannot  be. — Weel,  be  what  ye  will,  ye  hae 
a  face  and  a  tongue  that  puts  me  in  mind  of  auld  times. 
Good-day — make  haste  on  your  road,  and  if  ye  see  ony  of 
our  folk,  meddle  not  and  make  not,  and  they'll  do  you 
nae  harm.' 

Brown,  who  had  by  this  time  received  his  change,  put 
a  shilling  into  her  hand,  bade  his  hostess  farewell,  and 
taking  the  route  which  the  farmer  had  gone  before,  walked 
briskly  on,  with  the  advantage  of  being  guided  by  the 
fresh  hoof-prints  of  his  horse.  Meg  Merrilies  looked  after 
him  for  some  time,  and  then  muttered  to  herself,  'I  maun 
see  that  lad  again — and  I  maun  gang  back  to  Ellangowan 
too.  The  Laird's  dead — Aweel,  death  pays  a'  scores — he 
was  a  kind  man  ance. — The  Sheriff's  flitted,  and  I  can 
keep  canny  in  the  bush — so  there's  no  muckle  hazard  o' 
scouring  the  cramp-ring\ — I  would  like  to  see  bonny  Ellan- 
gowan  again  or  I  die.' 

Brown,  meanwhile,  proceeded  northward  at  a  round  pace 
along  the  moorish  tract  called  the  Waste  of  Cumberland. 
He  passed  a  solitary  house,  towards  which  the  horseman 
who  preceded  him  had  apparently  turned  up,  for  his  horse's 
tread  was  evident  in  that  direction.  A  little  farther,  he 
seemed  to  have  returned  again  into  the  road.  Mr.  Dinmont 
had  probably  made  a  visit  there  either  of  business  or 
pleasure. — I  wish,  thought  Brown,  the  good  farmer  had 
stayed  till  I  came  up ;  I  should  not  have  been  sorry  to  ask 
him  a  few  questions  about  the  road,  which  seems  to  grow 
wilder  and  wilder. 

In  truth,  nature,  as  if  she  had  designed  this  tract  of 
country  to  be  the  barrier  between  two  hostile  nations,  has 
stamped  upon  it  a  character  of  wildness  and  desolation. 
The  hills  are  neither  high  nor  rocky,  but  the  land  is  all 
heath  and  morass ;  the  huts  poor  and  mean,  and  at  a  great 
distance     from     each     other.       Immediately     around     them 

'  To  scour  the  cramp-ring,  is  said  metaphorically   for  being  thrown   into 

fetters,  or,  generally,  into  prison. 


GUY    MANNERIXG  179 

there  is  generally  some  little  attempt  at  cultivation ;  but 
a  half-bred  foal  or  two,  straggling  about  with  shackles  on 
their  hind  legs,  to  save  the  trouble  of  enclosures,  intimate 
the  farmer's  chief  resource  to  be  the  breeding  of  horses. 
The  people,  too.  are  of  a  ruder  and  more  inhospitable  class 
than  elsewhere  to  be  found  in  Cumberland,  arising  partly 
from  their  own  habits,  partly  from  their  intermixture  with 
vagrants  and  criminals  who  make  this  wild  country  a  refuge 
from  justice.  So  much  were  the  men  of  these  districts  in 
early  times  the  objects  of  suspicion  and  dislike  to  their 
more  polished  neighbours,  that  there  was.  and  perhaps 
still  exists,  a  by-law  of  the  corporation  of  Newcastle, 
prohibiting  any  freeman  of  that  city  to  take  for  apprentice 
a  native  of  certain  of  these  dales.  It  is  pithily  said.  'Give 
a  dog  an  ill  name  and  hang  him ;'  and  it  may  be  added, 
if  you  give  a  man  or  race  of  men  an  ill  name,  they  are 
very  likely  to  do  something  that  deserves  hanging.  Of 
this  Brown  had  heard  something,  and  suspected  more  from 
the  discourse  between  the  landlady,  Dinmont,  and  the  gipsy; 
but  he  was  naturally  of  a  fearless  disposition,  had  nothing 
about  him  that  could  tempt  the  spoiler,  and  trusted  to  get 
through  the  Waste  with  daylight.  In  this  last  particular, 
however,  he  was  likely  to  be  disappointed.  The  way 
proved  longer  than  he  had  anticipated,  and  the  horizon 
began  to  grow  gloomy,  just  as  he  entered  upon  an  ex- 
tensive  morass. 

Choosing  his  steps  with  care  and  deliberation,  the  young 
officer  proceeded  along  a  path  that  sometimes  sunk  between 
two  broken  black  banks  of  moss  earth,  sometimes  crossed 
narrow  but  deep  ravines  filled  with  a  consistence  between 
mud  and  water,  and  sometimes  along  heaps  of  gravel  and 
stones,  which  had  been  swept  together  when  some  torrent 
or  water-spout  from  the  neighbouring  hills  overflowed  the 
marshy  ground  below.  He  began  to  ponder  how  a  horse- 
man could  make  his  way  through  such  broken  ground ; 
the  traces  of  hoofs,  however,  were  still  visible ;  he  even 
thought  he  heard  their  sound  at  some  distance,  and,  con- 
vinced that  Mr.  Dinmont's  progress  through  the  morass 
must  be  still  slower  than  his  own.  he  resolved  to  push  on, 
in    hopes    to   overtake    him    and   have    the    benefit    of    his 


180  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

knowledge  of  the  country.    At  this  moment  his  little  terrier 
sprung  forward,  barking  most  furiously. 

Brown  quickened  his  pace,  and,  attaining  the  summit  of  a 
small  rising  ground,  saw  the  subject  of  the  dog's  alarm. 
In  a  hollow,  about  a  gunshot  below  him,  a  man,  whom  he 
easily  recognized  to  be  Dinmont,  was  engaged  with  two 
others  in  a  desperate  struggle.  He  was  dismounted,  and 
defending  himself  as  he  best  could  with  the  butt  of  his 
heavy  whip.  Our  traveller  hastened  on  to  his  assistance; 
but,  ere  he  could  get  up,  a  stroke  had  levelled  the  farmer 
with  the  earth,  and  one  of  the  robbers,  improving  his 
victory,  struck  him  some  merciless  blows  on  the  head.  The 
other  villain,  hastening  to  meet  Brown,  called  to  his  com- 
panion to  come  along,  'for  that  one's  content; — meaning, 
probably,  past  resistance  or  complaint.  One  ruffian  was 
armed  with  a  cutlass,  the  other  with  a  bludgeon;  but  as  the 
road  was  pretty  narrow,  'bar  fire-arms,'  thought  Brown, 
'and  I  may  manage  them  well  enough.' — They  met  accord- 
ingly, with  the  most  murderous  threats  on  the  parts  of  the 
ruffians. 

They  soon  found,  however,  that  their  new  opponent  was 
equally  stout  and  resolute ;  and,  after  exchanging  two  or 
three  blows,  one  of  them  told  him  to  'follow  his  nose  over 
the  heath,  in  the  devil's  name,  for  they  had  nothing  to  say 
to  him.' 

Brown  rejected  this  composition,  as  leaving  to  their 
mercy  the  unfortunate  man  whom  they  were  about  to 
pillage,  if  not  to  murder  outright;  and  the  skirmish  had 
just  recommenced,  when  Dinmont  unexpectedly  recovered 
his  senses,  his  feet,  and  his  weapon,  and  hasted  to  the 
scene  of  action.  As  he  had  been  no  easy  antagonist,  even 
when  surprised  and  alone,  the  villains  did  not  choose  to 
wait  his  joining  forces  with  a  man  who  had  singly  proved 
a  match  for  them  both,  but  fled  across  the  bog  as  fast  as 
their  feet  could  carry  them,  pursued  by  Wasp,  who  had 
acted  gloriously  during  the  skirmish,  annoying  the  heels  of 
the  enemy,  and  repeatedly  effecting  a  moment's  diversion 
in  his  master's  favour. 

'Deil,  but  your  dog's  weel  entered  wi'  the  vermin  now, 
sir !'   were  the  first  words  uttered  by  the  jolly  farmer,  as 


GUY    MANNERING  181 

he  came  up,  his  head  streaming  with  blood,  and  recognized 
his  deliverer  and  his  little  attendant. 

'I  hope,  sir,  you  are  not  hurt  dangerously?' 

'Oh,  deil  a  bit — my  head  can  stand  a  gay  clour — nae 
thanks  to  them,  though,  and  mony  to  you.  But  now, 
hinney,  ye  maun  help  me  to  catch  the  beast,  and  ye  maun 
get  on  behind  me,  for  we  maun  off  like  whittrets  before 
the  whole  clan jamf ray  de  doun  upon  us — the  rest  o'  them 
will  no  be  far  off.'  The  galloway  was,  by  good  fortune, 
easily  caught,  and  Brown  made  some  apology  for  over- 
loading the  animal. 

'Deil  a  fear,  man,'  answered  the  proprietor;  'Dumple 
could  carry  six  folk,  if  his  back  was  lang  eneugh.  But 
God's  sake,  haste  ye,  get  on,  for  I  see  some  folk  coming 
through  the  slack  yonder,  that  it  may  be  just  as  weel  no 
to  wait  for.' 

Brown  was  of  opinion  that  this  apparition  of  five  or  six 
men,  with  whom  the  other  villains  seemed  to  join  company, 
coming  across  the  moss  towards  them,  should  abridge 
ceremony;  he  therefore  mounted  Dumple  en  croupe,  and 
the  little  spirited  nag  cantered  away  with  two  men  of 
great  size  and  strength,  as  if  they  had  been  children  of 
six  years  old.  The  rider,  to  whom  the  paths  of  these  wilds 
seemed  intimately  known,  pushed  on  at  a  rapid  pace, 
managing,  with  much  dexterity,  to  choose  the  safest  route, 
in  which  he  was  aided  by  the  sagacity  of  the  galloway, 
who  never  failed  to  take  the  difificult  passes  exactly  at  the 
particular  spot,  and  in  the  special  manner  by  which  they 
could  be  most  safely  crossed.  Yet,  even  with  these  advan- 
tages, the  road  was  so  broken,  and  they  were  so  often 
thrown  out  of  the  direct  course  by  various  impediments, 
that  they  did  not  gain  much  upon  their  pursuers.  'Never 
mind,'  said  the  undaunted  Scotchman  to  his  companion,  'if 
ye  were  ance  by  Withershin's  latch,  the  road's  no  near  sae 
soft,  and  we'll  show  them  fair  play  for't.' 

They  soon  came  to  the  place  he  named,  a  narrow  channel, 
through  which  soaked,  rather  than  flowed,  a  small  stagnant 
stream,  mantled  over  with  bright  green  mosses.  Dinmont 
directed  his  steed  towards  a  pass  where  the  water  appeared 
to   flow   with   more    freedom   over    a   harder   bottom ;   but 


1S2  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Dumple  backed  from  the  proposed  crossing-place,  put  his 
head  down  as  if  to  reconnoitre  the  swamp  more  nearly, 
stretching  forward  his  fore-feet,  and  stood  as  fast  as  if  he 
had  been  cut  out  of  stone. 

'Had  we  not  better/  said  Brown,  'dismount,  and  leave  him 
to  his  fate? — or  can  you  not  urge  him  through  the  swamp?' 

'Na,  na,'  said  his  pilot,  'we  maun  cross  Dumple  at  no 
rate — he  has  mair  sense  than  mony  a  Christian.'  So  saying, 
he  relaxed  the  reins,  and  shook  them  loosely.  'Come  now, 
lad,  take  your  ain  way  o't — let 's  see  where  ye'll  take  us 
through.' 

Dumple.  left  to  the  freedom  of  his  own  will,  trotted 
briskly  to  another  part  of  the  latch,  less  promising,  as 
Brown  thought,  in  appearance,  but  which  the  animal's 
sagacity  or  experience  recommended  as  the  safer  of  the  two, 
and  where,  plunging  in,  he  attained  the  other  side  with 
little  difiiculty. 

'I'm  glad  we're  out  o'  that  moss,'  said  Dinmont,  'where 
there 's  mair  stables  for  horses  than  change-houses  for 
men — we  have  the  Maiden-way  to  help  us  now,  at  ony 
rate.'  Accordingly,  they  speedily  gained  a  sort  of  rugged 
causeway  so  called,  being  the  remains  of  an  old  Roman 
road,  which  traverses  these  wild  regions  in  a  due  northerly 
direction.  Here  they  got  on  at  the  rate  of  nine  or  ten 
miles  an  hour,  Dumple  seeking  no  other  respite  than  what 
arose  from  changing  his  pace  from  canter  to  trot.  'I  could 
gar  him  show  mair  action,'  said  his  master,  'but  we  are 
twa  lang-legged  chields  after  a',  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
distress  Dumple — there  wasna  the  like  o'  him  at  Staneshie- 
bank  fair  the  day.' 

Brown  readily  assented  to  the  propriety  of  sparing  the 
horse,  and  added  that,  as  they  were  now  far  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  rogues,  he  thought  Mr.  Dinmont  had  better 
tie  a  handkerchief  round  his  head,  for  fear  of  the  cold 
frosty  air  aggravating  the  wound. 

'What  would  I  do  that  for?'  answered  the  hardy  farmer; 
'the  best  way's  to  let  the  blood  barken  upon  the  cut — that 
saves  plasters,  hinney.' 

Brown,  who  in  his  military  profession  had  seen  a  great 
many  hard  blows  pass,  could  not  help  remarking,  'he  had 


GUY    MANNERING  183 

never  known  such  severe  strokes  received  with  so  much 
apparent  indifference.' 

'Hout  tout,  man — I  would  never  be  making  a  hum- 
dudgeon  about  a  scart  on  the  pow — but  we'll  be  in  Scotland 
in  five  minutes  now,  and  ye  maun  gang  up  to  Charlies-hope 
wi'  me,  that 's  a  clear  case.' 

Brown  readily  accepted  the  offered  hospitality.  Night 
was  now  falling,  when  they  came  in  sight  of  a  pretty  river 
winding  its  way  through  a  pastoral  country.  The  hills 
were  greener  and  more  abrupt  than  those  which  Brown 
had  lately  passed,  sinking  their  grassy  sides  at  once  upon 
the  river.  They  had  no  pretensions  to  magnificence  of 
height,  or  to  romantic  shapes,  nor  did  their  smooth  swelling 
slopes  exhibit  either  rocks  or  woods.  Yet  the  view  was 
wild,  solitary,  and  pleasingly  rural.  No  enclosures,  no  roads, 
almost  no  tillage — it  seemed  a  land  which  a  patriarch 
would  have  chosen  to  feed  his  flocks  and  herds.  The 
remains  of  here  and  there  a  dismantled  and  ruined  tower 
showed  that  it  had  once  harboured  beings  of  a  very  different 
description  from  its  present  inhabitants ;  namely,  those 
freebooters  to  whose  exploits  the  wars  between  England 
and  Scotland  bear  witness. 

Descending  by  a  path  towards  a  well-known  ford,  Dumple 
crossed  the  small  river,  and  then  quickening  his  pace, 
trotted  about  a  mile  briskly  up  its  banks,  and  approached 
two  or  three  low  thatched  houses,  placed  with  their  angles 
to  each  other,  with  a  great  contempt  of  regularity.  This 
was  the  farm-steading  of  Charlies-hope,  or,  in  the  language 
of  the  country,  'the  Town.'  A  most  furious  barking  was 
set  up  at  their  approach,  by  the  whole  three  generations 
of  Mustard  and  Pepper,  and  a  number  of  allies,  names 
unknown.  The  farmer  made  his  well-known  voice  lustily 
heard  to  restore  order;  the  door  opened,  and  a  half- 
dressed  ewe-milker,  who  had  done  that  good  office,  shut 
it  in  their  faces,  in  order  that  she  might  run  ben  the  house, 
to  cry  'Mistress,  mistress,  it 's  the  master,  and  another 
man  wi'  him.'  Dumple,  turned  loose,  walked  to  his  own 
stable-door,  and  there  pawed  and  whinnied  for  admission, 
in  strains  which  were  answered  by  his  acquaintances  from 
the  interior.     Amid  this  bustle,  Brown  was  fain  to  secure 


184  SIR    WALTER    SCOTl 

Wasp  from  the  other  dogs,  who,  with  ardour  corresponding 
more  to  their  own  names  than  to  the  hospitable  temper  of 
their  owner,  were  much  disposed  to  use  the  intruder  roughly. 
In  about  a  minute  a  stout  labourer  was  patting  Dumple, 
and  introducing  him  into  the  stable,  while  Mrs.  Dinmont, 
a  well-favoured  buxom  dame,  welcomed  her  husband  with 
unfeigned  rapture.  'Eh,  sirs  I  gudeman,  ye  hae  been  a 
weary  while  away.'  " 


i 


i 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Liddell  till  now,  except  in  Doric  lays, 
Tuned  to  her  murmurs  by  her  love-sick  swains. 
Unknown   in   song — though    not   a   purer  stream 
Rolls  towards  the  western  main. 

Art  of  Preserving  Health. 

THE  present  store-farmers  of  the  south  of  Scotland  are 
a  much  more  refined  race  than  their  fathers,  and 
the  manners  I  ain  now  to  descrihe  have  either  al- 
together disappeared,  or  are  greatly  modified.  Without  los- 
ing the  rural  simplicity  of  manners,  they  now  cultivate 
arts  unknown  to  the  former  generation,  not  only  in  the 
progressive  improvement  of  their  possessions,  but  in  all 
the  comforts  of  life.  Their  houses  are  more  commodious, 
their  habits  of  life  regulated  so  as  better  to  keep  pace 
with  those  of  the  civilized  world;  and  the  best  of  luxuries, 
the  luxury  of  knowledge,  has  gained  much  ground  among 
their  hills  during  the  last  thirty  years.  Deep  drinking, 
formerly  their  greatest  failing,  is  now  fast  losing  ground; 
and,  while  the  frankness  of  their  extensive  hospitality  con- 
tinues the  same,  it  is,  generally  speaking,  refined  in  its 
character   and   restrained   in   its   excesses. 

'Deil's  in  the  wife,*  said  Dandie  Dinmont.  shaking  off 
his  spouse's  embrace,  but  gently  and  with  a  look  of  great 
affection ;  'deil's  in  ye,  Ailic — d'ye  no  see  the  stranger 
gentleman?' 

Ailie   turned   to   make   her   apology. — 'Troth,    T   was   sae 

weel    pleased    to    see     the     gudcman,     that But.     gude 

gracious !  what's  the  matter  wi'  ye  baith  ?' — for  they  were 
now  in  her  little  parlour,  and  the  candle  showed  the 
streaks  of  blood  which  Dinmont's  wounded  head  had 
plentifully  imparted  to  the  clothes  of  his  companion  as 
well  as  to  his  own.  'Ye've  been  fighting  again.  Dandy, 
wi'  some  o'  the  Bewcastle  horse-coupers !  Wow.  man.  a 
married   man,   wi'   a  bonny   family   like  yours,   should  ken 

185 


186  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

better    what    a    father's    Hfe's    worth    in    the    warld.' — The 
tears  stood  in  the  good  woman's  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

'Whist !  whist,  gudewife !'  said  her  husband,  with  a  smack 
that  had  much  more  affection  than  ceremony  in  it ; — 'never 
mind — never  mind — there's  a  gentleman  that  will  tell  you, 
that  just  when  I  had  ga'en  up  to  Lourie  Lowther's,  and 
had  bidden  the  drinking  of  twa  cheerers,  and  gotten  just 
in  again  upon  the  moss,  and  was  whigging  cannily  awa 
hame,  twa  land-loupers  jumpit  out  of  a  peat-hag  on  me 
or  I  was  thinking,  and  got  me  down,  and  knevelled  me  sair 
aneuch,  or  I  could  gar  my  whip  walk  about  their  lugs; 
— and  troth,  gudewife,  if  this  honest  gentleman  hadna  come 
up,  I  would  have  gotten  mair  licks  than  I  like,  and  lost 
mair  siller  than  I  could  weel  spare ;  so  ye  maun  be  thank- 
ful to  him  for  it,  under  God.'  With  that  he  drew  from 
his  side-pocket  a  large  greasy  leather  pocket-book,  and 
bade  the  gudewife  lock  it  up  in  her  kist. 

'God  bless  the  gentleman,  and  e'en  God  bless  him  wi' 
a'  my  heart !  But  what  can  we  do  for  him,  but  to  gie 
him  the  meat  and  quarters  we  wadna  refuse  to  the  poorest 
body  on  earth — unless'  (her  eye  directed  to  the  pocket- 
book,  but  with  a  feeling  of  natural  propriety  which  made 
the  inference  the  most  delicate  possible)   'unless  there  was 

ony   other   way' Brown    saw,   and    estimated    at   its   due 

rate,  the  mixture  of  simplicity  and  grateful  generosity 
which  took  the  downright  way  of  expressing  itself,  yet 
qualified  with  so  much  delicacy.  He  was  aware  his  own  ap- 
pearance, plain  at  best,  and  now  torn  and  spattered  with 
blood,  made  his  an  object  of  pity  at  least,  and  perhaps  of 
charity.  He  hastened  to  say  his  name  was  Brown,  a  cap- 
tain in  the  regiment  of  cavalry,  travelling  for  pleas- 
ure, and  on  foot,  both  from  motives  of  independence  and 
economy;  and  he  begged  his  kind  landlady  would  look  at 
her  husband's  wounds,  the  state  of  which  he  had  refused 
to  permit  him  to  examine.  Mrs.  Dinmont  was  used  to  her 
husband's  broken  heads  more  than  to  the  presence  of  a 
captain  of  dragoons.  She  therefore  glanced  at  a  table- 
cloth, not  quite  clean,  and  conned  over  her  proposed  sup- 
per a  minute  or  two,  before,  patting  her  husband  on  the 
shoulder,  she  bade  him  sit  down   for  'a  hard-headed  loon 


GUY    MANNERIXG  187 

that  was  ay  bringing  himself  and  other  folk  into  collie- 
shangies.' 

When  Dandie  Dinmont,  after  executing  two  or  three 
caprioles,  and  cutting  the  Highland-fling,  by  way  of  ridi- 
cule of  his  wife's  anxiety,  at  last  deigned  to  sit  down  and 
commit  his  round,  black,  shaggy  bullet  of  a  head  to  her 
inspection,  Brown  thought  he  had  seen  the  regimental 
surgeon  look  grave  upon  a  more  trifling  case.  The  gude- 
wife,  however,  showed  some  knowledge  of  chirurgery — 
she  cut  away  with  her  scissors  the  gory  locks,  whose 
stiffened  and  coagulated  clusters  interfered  with  her  opera- 
tions, and  clapped  on  the  wound  some  lint  besmeared  with 
a  vulnerary  salve,  esteemed  sovereign  by  the  whole  dale 
(\vhich  afforded  upon  Fair  niglits  considerable  experience 
of  such  cases) —  she  then  fixed  her  plaster  with  a  band- 
age, and,  spite  of  her  patient's  resistance,  pulled  over  all 
a  night-cap,  to  keep  everything  in  its  right  place.  Some 
contusions  on  the  brow  and  shoulders  she  fomented  wnth 
brandy,  which  the  patient  did  not  permit  till  the  medicine 
had  paid  a  heavy  toll  to  his  mouth.  Mrs.  Dinmont  then 
simply,  but  kindly,  offered  her  assistance  to  Brown. 

He  assured  her  he  had  no  occasion  for  an^'thing  but  the 
accommodation  of  a  basin  and  towel. 

'And  that's  what  I  should  have  thought  of  sooner,'  she 
said ;  'and  I  did  think  o't,  but  T  durst  na  open  the  door, 
for  there's  a'  the  bairns,  poor  things,  sac  keen  to  see  their 
father.' 

This  explained  a  great  drumming  and  whining  at  the 
door  of  the  little  parlour,  which  had  somewhat  surprised 
Brown,  though  his  kind  landlady  had  only  noticed  it  by 
fastening  the  bolt  as  soon  as  she  heard  it  begin.  But  on 
her  opening  the  door  to  seek  the  basin  and  towel  (for  she 
never  thought  of  showing  the  guest  to  a  separate  room) 
a  whole  tide  of  white-headed  urchins  streamed  in,  some 
from  the  stable,  where  they  had  been  seeing  Dumple,  and 
giving  him  a  welcome  home  with  part  of  their  four-hours 
scones ;  others  from  the  kitchen,  where  they  had  been 
listening  to  auld  Elspeth's  tales  and  ballads ;  and  the 
youngest,  half -naked,  out  of  bed, — all  roaring  to  see  daddy, 
and  to  inquire  what  he  had  brought  home  for  them  from 


188  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  various  fairs  he  had  visited  in  his  peregrinations.  Our 
knight  of  the  broken  head  first  kissed  and  hugged  them 
all  round,  then  distributed  whistles,  penny-trumpets,  and 
gingerbread;  and  lastly,  when  the  tumult  of  their  joy  and 
welcome  got  beyond  bearing,  exclaimed  to  his  guest — 
'This  is  a'  the  gudewife's  fault,  Captain — she  will  gie  the 
bairns   a'   their  ain   way.' 

'Me !  Lord  help  me !'  said  Ailie,  who  at  that  instant 
entered  with  the  basin  and  ewer,  'how  can  I  help  it? — 
I  have  naething  else  to  gie  them,  poor  things  !' 

Dinmont  then  exerted  himself,  and,  between  coaxing, 
threats,  and  shoving,  cleared  the  room  of  all  the  intruders, 
excepting  a  boy  and  girl,  the  two  eldest  of  the  family,  who 
could,  as  he  observed,  behave  themselves  'distinctly.'  For 
the  same  reason,  but  with  less  ceremony,  all  the  dogs  were 
kicked  out,  excepting  the  venerable  patriarchs,  old  Pepper 
and  Mustard,  whom  frequent  castigation  and  the  advance 
of  years  had  inspired  with  such  a  share  of  passive  hospi- 
tality, that,  after  mutual  explanation  and  remonstrance  in 
the  shape  of  some  growling,  they  admitted  Wasp,  who  had 
hitherto  judged  it  safe  to  keep  beneath  his  master's  chair, 
to  a  share  of  a  dried  wedder's  skin,  which,  with  the  wool 
uppermost  and  unshorn,  served  all  the  purposes  of  a  Bris- 
tol hearthrug. 

The  active  bustle  of  the  mistress  (so  she  was  called  in 
the  kitchen,  and  the  gudewife  in  the  parlour)  had  already 
signed  the  fate  of  a  couple  of  fowls,  which,  for  want  of 
time  to  dress  otherwise,  soon  appeared  reeking  from  the 
gridiron — or  brander,  as  Mrs.  Dinmont  denominated  it.  A 
huge  piece  of  cold  beef-ham,  eggs,  butter,  cakes,  and 
barley-meal  bannocks  in  plenty,  made  up  the  entertainment, 
which  was  to  be  diluted  with  home-brewed  ale  of  excel- 
lent quality,  and  a  case-bottle  of  brandy.  Few  soldiers 
would  find  fault  with  such  cheer  after  a  day's  hard  exer- 
cise, and  a  skirmish  to  boot;  accordingly  Brown  did  great 
honour  to  the  eatables.  While  the  gudewife  partly  aided, 
partly  instructed,  a  great  stout  servant  girl,  with  cheeks  as 
red  as  her  top-knot,  to  remove  the  supper  matters,  and 
supply  sugar  and  hot  water  (which,  in  the  damsel's  anxiety 
to    gaze    upon   an    actual    live    captain,    she    was    in    some 


GUY    MANNERING  189 

danger  of  forgetting),  Brown  took  an  opportunity  to  ask 
his  host  whether  he  did  not  repent  of  having  neglected 
the  gipsy's  hint. 

'Wha  kens  ?'  answered  he ;  'they're  queer  deevils ; — 
maybe  I  might  just  have  scaped  ae  gang  to  meet  the  other. 
And  yet  I'll  no  say  that  neither;  for  if  that  randy  wife  was 
coming  to  Charlies-hope,  she  should  have  a  pint  bottle 
o'  brandy  and  a  pound  o'  tobacco  to  wear  her  through  the 
winter.  They're  queer  deevils ;  as  my  auld  father  used  to 
say — they're  warst  where  they're  warst  guided.  After  a', 
there's  baith  gude  an  dill  about  the  gipsies.' 

This,  and  some  other  desultory  conversation,  served  as 
a  'shoeing-horn'  to  draw  on  another  cup  of  ale  and  another 
chccrcr,  as  Dinmont  termed  it  in  his  country  phrase,  of 
brandy  and  water.  Brown  then  resolutely  declined  all 
further  conviviality  for  that  evening,  pleading  his  own 
weariness  and  the  effects  of  the  skirmish, — being  well  aware 
that  it  would  have  availed  nothing  to  have  remonstrated 
with  his  host  on  the  danger  that  excess  might  have  occa- 
sioned to  his  own  raw  wound  and  bloody  coxcomb.  A  very 
small  bedroom,  but  a  very  clean  bed,  received  the  traveller, 
and  the  sheets  made  good  the  courteous  vaunt  of  the 
hostess,  'that  they  would  be  as  pleasant  as  he  could  find 
ony  gate,  for  they  were  washed  wi'  the  fairy-well  water, 
and  bleached  on  the  bonny  white  gowans,  and  bittled  by 
Nelly  and  hersell ;  and  what  could  woman,  if  she  was  a 
queen,  do  mair  for  them?' 

They  indeed  rivalled  snow  in  whiteness,  and  had,  besides, 
a  pleasant  fragance  from  the  manner  in  which  they  had 
been  bleached.  Little  Wasp,  after  licking  his  master's 
hand  to  ask  leave,  couched  himself  on  the  coverlet  at  his 
feet !  and  the  traveller's  senses  were  soon  lost  in  grateful 
oblivion. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

-Give,  ye  Britons,  then, 


B 


Your  sportive  fury,  pitiless,  to  pour 

Loose  on  the  nightly  robber  of  the  fold. 

Him,   from   his  craggy   winding  haunts   unearthed, 

Let  all  the  thunder  of  the  chase  pursue. 

Thomson's   Seasons, 

ROWN  rose  early  in  the  morning,  and  walked  out  to 
look  at  the  establishment  of  his  new  friend.  All  was 
rough  and  neglected  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
house ; —  a  paltry  garden,  no  pains  taken  to  make  the  vicinity 
dry  or  comfortable,  and  a  total  absence  of  all  those  little 
neatnesses  which  give  the  eye  so  much  pleasure  in  looking 
at  an  English  farm-house.  There  were,  notwithstanding, 
evident  signs  that  this  arose  only  from  want  of  taste,  or  ig- 
norance, not  from  poverty  or  the  negligence  which  attends 
it.  On  the  contrary,  a  noble  cow-house,  well  filled  with  good 
milk-cows,  a  feeding-house,  with  ten  bullocks  of  the  most 
approved  breed,  a  stable,  with  two  good  teams  of  horses,  the 
appearance  of  domestics,  active,  industrious,  and  apparently 
contented  with  their  lot;  in  a  word,  an  air  of  liberal  though 
sluttish  plenty  indicated  the  wealthy  farmer.  The  situation 
of  the  house  above  the  river  formed  a  gentle  declivity,  which 
relieved  the  inhabitants  of  the  nuisances  that  might  other- 
wise have  stagnated  around  it.  At  a  little  distance  was  the 
whole  band  of  children,  playing  and  building  houses  with 
peats  around  a  huge  doddered  oak-tree,  which  was  called 
Charlie's-Bush,  from  some  tradition  respecting  an  old  free- 
booter who  had  once  inhabited  the  spot.  Between  the  farm- 
house and  the  hill-pasture  was  a  deep  morass,  termed  in  that 
country  a  slack :  it  had  once  been  the  defence  of  a  f ortalice, 
of  which  no  vestiges  now  remained,  but  which  was  said  to 
have  been  inhabited  by  the  same  doughty  hero  we  have  now 
alluded  to.  Brown  endeavoured  to  make  acquaintance  with 
the  children;  but  'the  rogues  fled  from  him  like  quicksilver,' 
though  the  two  eldest  stood  peeping  when  they  had  got  to 

190 


GUY    MANNERING  191 

some  distance.  The  traveller  then  turned  his  course  towards 
the  hill,  crossing  the  foresaid  swamp  by  a  range  of  stepping- 
stones,  neither  the  broadest  nor  steadiest  that  could  be  imag- 
ined. He  had  not  climbed  far  up  the  hill  when  he  met  a  man 
descending. 

He  soon  recognized  his  worthy  host,  though  a  maud  as  it 
is  called,  or  a  grey  shepherd's-plaid,  supplied  his  travelling 
jockey-coat,  and  a  cap,  faced  with  wild-cat's  fur,  more  com- 
modiously  covered  his  bandaged  head  than  a  hat  would  have 
done.  As  he  appeared  through  the  morning  mist.  Brown,  ac- 
customed to  judge  of  men  by  their  thews  and  sinews,  could 
not  help  admiring  his  height,  the  breadth  of  his  shoulders,  and 
the  steady  firmness  of  his  step.  Dinmont  internally  paid  the 
same  compliment  to  Brown,  whose  athletic  form  he  now 
perused  somewhat  more  at  leisure  than  he  had  done  formerly. 
After  the  usual  greetings  of  the  morning,  the  guest  inquired 
whether  his  host  found  any  inconvenient  consequences  from 
the  last  night's  affray. 

'I  had  maist  forgotten't,  said  the  hardy  Borderer;  'but  I 
think  this  morning,  now  that  I  am  fresh  and  sober,  if  you 
and  I  were  at  the  Withershins'  Latch,  wi'  ilka  ane  a  gude  oak 
souple  in  his  hand,  we  wadna  turn  back,  no  for  half  a  dizzen 
o'  yon  scaff-raff.' 

'But  are  you  prudent,  my  good  sir,'  said  Brown,  'not  to 
take  an  hour  or  two's  repose  after  receiving  such  severe 
contusions?' 

'Confusions !'  replied  the  farmer,  laughing  in  derision : — 
'Lord,  Captain,  naething  confuses  my  head. — I  ance  jumped 
up  and  laid  the  dogs  on  the  fox  after  I  had  tumbled  from  the 
tap  o'  Christenbury  Craig,  and  that  might  have  confused  me 
to  purpose.  Na — naething  confuses  me.  unless  it  be  a  screed 
o'  drink  at  an  orra  time.  Besides.  I  behooved  to  be  rotmd 
the  hirsel  this  morning,  and  see  how  the  herds  were  coming 
on — they're  apt  to  be  negligent  wi'  their  footballs,  and  fairs, 
and  trysts,  when  ane's  away.  And  there  I  met  wi'  Tarn  o' 
Todshaw.  and  a  wheen  o'  the  rest  o'  the  billies  on  the  water 
side;  they're  a'  for  a  foxhunt  this  morning — ye'll  gang?  LU 
gie  ye  Dum.ple.  and  take  the  brood  mare  mysell.' 

'But  I  fear  I  must  leave  you  this  morning,  Mr.  Dinmont,' 
replied  Brown. 


199  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

'The  fient  a  bit  o'  that/  exclaimed  the  Borderer, — Til  no 
part  wi'  ye  at  ony  rate  for  a  fortnight  mair. — Na,  na;  we 
dinna  meet  sic  friends  as  you  on  a  Bewcastle  moss  every 
night.' 

Brown  had  not  designed  his  journey  should  be  a  speedy 
one ;  he  therefore  readily  compounded  with  this  hearty  invi- 
tation, by  agreeing  to  pass   a  week   at   Charlies-hope. 

On  their  return  to  the  house,  where  the  good-wife  presided 
over  an  ample  breakfast,  she  heard  news  of  the  proposed 
fox-hunt,  not  indeed  with  approbation,  but  without  alarm  or 
surprise.  'Dand !  ye're  the  auld  man  yet ;  naething  will 
make  ye  take  warning  till  ye're  brought  hame  some  day  wi' 
your  feet  foremost.' 

'Tut,  lass !'  answered  Dandie,'  'ye  ken  yoursell  I  am  never 
a  prin  the  waur  o'  my  rambles.' 

So  saying,  he  exhorted  Brown  to  be  hasty  in  dispatching 
his  breakfast,  as,  'the  frost  having  given  way,  the  scent  would 
lie  this  morning  primely.' 

Out  they  sailed  accordingly  for  Otterscopescaurs,  the 
farmer  leading  the  way.  They  soon  quitted  the  little  valley, 
and  involved  themselves  among  hills  as  steep  as  they  could 
be  without  being  precipitous.  The  sides  often  presented 
gullies,  down  which,  in  the  winter  season  or  after  heavy 
rain,  the  torrents  descended  with  great  fury.  Some  dappled 
mists  still  floated  along  the  peaks  of  the  hills,  the  remains 
of  the  morning  clouds,  for  the  frost  had  broken  up  with  a 
smart  shower.  Through  these  fleecy  screens  were  seen  a 
hundred  little  temporary  streamlets  or  rills,  descending  the 
sides  of  the  mountains  like  silver  threads.  By  small  sheep- 
tracks  along  these  steeps,  over  which  Dinmont  trotted  with 
the  most  fearless  confidence,  they  at  length  drew  near  the 
scene  of  sport,  and  began  to  see  other  men,  both  on  horse  and 
foot,  making  toward  the  place  of  rendezvous.  Brown  was 
puzzling  himself  to  conceive  how  a  fox-chase  could  take 
place  among  hills  where  it  was  barely  possible  for  a 
pony,  accustomed  to  the  ground,  to  trot  along,  but  where, 
quitting  the  track  for  half  a  yard's  'breadth,  the  rider 
might  be  either  bogged,  or  precipitated  down  the  bank. 
This  wonder  was  not  diminished  when  he  came  to  the  place 
of  action. 


GUY    MANXERING  193 

They  had  f^radually  ascended  very  high,  and  now  found 
themselves  on  a  mountain-ridge  overhanging  a  glen  of  great 
depth,  but  extremely  narrow.  Here  the  sportsmen  had  col- 
lected, with  an  apparatus  which  would  have  shocked  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Pychely  Hunt;  for,  the  object  being  the  removal 
of  a  noxious  and  destructive  animal,  as  well  as  the  pleasures 
of  the  chase,  poor  Reynard  was  allowed  much  less  fair  play 
than  when  pursued  in  form  through  an  open  country.  The 
strength  of  his  habitation,  however,  and  the  nature  of  the 
ground  by  which  it  was  surrounded  on  all  sides,  supplied 
what  was  wanting  in  the  courtesy  of  his  pursuers.  The  sides 
of  the  glen  were  broken  banks  of  earth,  and  rocks  of  rotten 
stone,  which  sunk  sheer  down  to  the  little  winding  stream 
below,  affording  here  and  there  a  tuft  of  scathed  brushwood 
or  a  patch  of  furze.  Along  the  edges  of  this  ravine,  which 
as  we  have  said  was  very  tiarrow,  but  of  profound  depth,  the 
hunters  on  horse  and  foot  ranged  themselves ;  almost  every 
farmer  had  with  him  at  least  a  brace  of  large  and  fierce 
greyhounds,  of  the  race  of  those  deer-dogs  which  were  for- 
merly used  in  that  country,  but  greatly  lessened  in  size  from 
being  crossed  with  the  common  breed.  The  huntsman,  a 
sort  of  provincial  officer  of  the  district,  who  receives  a  cer- 
tain supply  of  meal,  and  a  reward  for  every  fox  he  destroys, 
was  already  at  the  bottom  of  the  dell,  whose  echoes  thun- 
dered to  the  chiding  of  two  or  three  brace  of  foxhounds. 
TeTiers,  including  the  whole  generation  of  Pepper  and  Mus- 
tard, were  also  in  attendance,  having  been  sent  forward  under 
the  care  of  a  shepherd.  Mongrel,  whelp,  and  cur  of  low 
degree,  filled  up  the  burden  of  the  chorus.  The  spectators 
on  the  brink  of  the  ravine,  or  glen,  held  their  greyhounds  in 
leash  in  readiness  to  slip  them  at  the  fox,  as  soon  as  the 
activity  of  the  party  below  should  force  him  to  abandon  his 
cover. 

The  scene,  though  uncouth  to  the  eye  of  a  professed  sports- 
man, had  something  in  it  wildly  captivating.  The  shifting 
figures  on  the  mountain  ridge,  having  the  sky  for  their  back- 
ground, appeared  to  move  in  the  air.  The  dogs,  impatient 
of  their  restraint,  and  maddened  with  the  baying  beneath, 
sprung  here  and  there,  and  strained  at  the  slips  which  pre- 
vented them  from  joining  their  companions.    Looking  down. 


194  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  view  was  equally  striking.  The  thin  mists  were  not 
totally  dispersed  in  the  glen,  so  that  it  was  often  through 
their  gauzy  medium  that  the  eye  strove  to  discover  the  mo- 
tions of  the  hunters  below.  Sometimes  a  breath  of  wind 
made  the  scene  visible,  the  blue  rill  glittering  as  it  twined 
itself  through  its  rude  and  solitary  dell.  They  then  could  see 
the  shepherds  springing  with  fearless  activity  from  one  dan- 
gerous point  to  another,  and  cheering  the  dogs  on  the  scent — 
the  whole  so  diminished  by  depth  and  distance,  that  they 
looked  like  pigmies.  Again  the  mists  close  over  them,  and 
the  only  signs  of  their  continued  exertions  are  the  halloos  of 
the  men,  and  the  clamours  of  the  hounds,  ascending  as  it 
were  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  When  the  fox,  thus  per- 
secuted from  one  stronghold  to  another,  was  at  length 
obliged  to  abandon  his  valley,  and  to  break  away  for  a  more 
distant  retreat,  those  who  watched  his  motions  from  the  top 
slipped  their  greyhounds,  which,  excelling  the  fox  in  swift- 
ness, and  equalling  him  in  ferocity  and  spirit,  soon  brought 
the  plunderer  to  his  life's  end. 

In  this  way,  without  any  attention  to  the  ordinary  rules 
and  decorums  of  sport,  but  apparently  as  much  to  the  gratifi- 
cation both  of  bipeds  and  quadrupeds  as  if  all  due  ritual 
had  been  followed,  four  foxes  were  killed  on  this  active 
morning;  and  even  Brown  himself,  though  he  had  seen  the 
princely  sports  of  India,  and  ridden  a  tiger-hunting  upon  an 
elephant  with  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  professed  to  have  received 
an  excellent  morning's  amusement.  When  the  sport  was 
given  up  for  the  day,  most  of  the  sportsmen,  according  to  the 
established  hospitality  of  the  country,  went  to  dine  at 
Charlies-hope. 

During  their  return  homeward,  Brown  rode  for  a  short  time 
beside  the  huntsman,  and  asked  him  some  questions  concerning 
the  mode  in  which  he  exercised  his  profession.  The  man 
showed  an  unwillingness  to  meet  his  eye,  and  a  disposition  to 
be  rid  cf  his  company  and  conversation,  for  which  Brown 
could  not  easily  account.  He  was  a  thin,  dark,  active  fellow, 
well  framed  for  the  hardy  profession  which  he  exercised. 
But  his  face  had  not  the  frankness  of  the  jolly  hunter ;  he  was 
downlooked.  embarrassed,  and  avoided  the  eyes  of  those  who 
looked  hard  at  him.    After  some  unimportant  observations  on 


I 


fc> 


I 


GUY    MANXERIXG  195 

the  success  of  the  day.  Brown  gave  him  a  trifling  gratuity, 
and  rode  on  with  his  landlord.  They  found  the  gudewife  pre- 
pared for  their  reception  ;  the  fold  and  the  poultry-yard  fur- 
nished the  entertainment,  and  the  kind  and  hearty  welcome 
made  amends  for  all  deficiencies  in  elegance  and  fashion. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

The  Elliots  and  Armstrongs  did  convene ; 
They   were   a   gallant  company  ! 

Ballad  of  Johnnie  Armstrong. 

WITHOUT  noticing  the  occupations  of  an  interven- 
ing day  or  two,  which,  as  they  consisted  of  the 
ordinary  sylvan  amusements  of  shooting  and  cours- 
ing, have  nothing  sufficiently  interesting  to  detain  the  reader, 
we  pass  to  one  in  some  degree  peculiar  to  Scotland,  which 
may  be  called  a  sort  of  salmon-hunting.  This  chase,  in  which 
the  fish  is  pursued  and  struck  with  barbed  spears,  or  a  sort 
of  long  shafted  trident,  called  a  waster^  is  much  practised 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Esk,  and  in  the  other  salmon  rivers  of 
Scotland.  The  sport  is  followed  by  day  and  night,  but  most 
cominonly  in  the  latter,  when  the  fish  are  discovered  by  means 
of  torches,  or  fire-grates,  filled  with  blazing  fragments  of 
tar-barrels,  which  shed  a  strong  though  partial  light  upon  the 
water.  On  the  present  occasion,  the  principal  party  were  em- 
barked in  a  crazy  boat  upon  a  part  of  the  river  which  was 
enlarged  and  deepened  by  the  restraint  of  a  mill-weir,  while 
others,  like  the  ancient  Bacchanals  in  their  gambols,  ran 
along  the  banks  brandishing  their  torches  and  spears,  and 
pursuing  the  salmon,  some  of  which  endeavoured  to  escape 
up  the  stream,  while  others,  shrouding  themselves  under  roots 
of  treeS;  fragments  of  stones,  and  large  rocks,  attempted  to 
conceal  themselves  from  the  researches  of  the  fishermen. 
These  the  party  in  the  boat  detected  by  the  slightest  indica- 
tions; the  twinkling  of  a  fin,  the  rising  of  an  air-bell,  was 
sufficient  to  point  out  to  these  adroit  sportsmen  in  what  direc- 
tion to  use  their  weapon. 

The  scene  was  inexpressibly  animating  to  those  accus- 
tomed to  it;  but  as  Brown  was  not  practised  to  use  the  spear, 
he  soon  tired  of  making  efforts  which  were  attended  with 

'  Or  leister.  The  long  spear  is  used  for  striking;  but  there  is  a  shorter, 
which  is  cast  from  the  hand,  and  with  which  an  experienced  sportsman  hits 
the  fish  with  singular  dexterity. 

196 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  197 

no  other  consequences  than  jarring  his  arms  against  the  rocks 
at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  upon  which,  instead  of  the  devoted 
salmon,  he  often  bestowed  his  blow.  Nor  did  he  relish, 
though  he  concealed  feelings  which  would  not  have  been 
understood,  being  quite  so  near  the  agonies  of  the  expiring 
salmon,  as  they  lay  flapping  about  in  the  boat  which  they 
moistened  with  their  blood.  He  therefore  requested  to  be 
put  ashore,  and,  from  the  top  of  a  hcugh.  or  broken  bank, 
enjoyed  the  scene  much  more  to  his  satisfaction.  Often  he 
thought  of  his  friend  Dudley,  the  artist,  when  he  observed 
the  effect  produced  by  the  strong  red  glare  on  the  romantic 
banks  under  which  the  boat  glided.  Now  the  light  diminished 
to  a  distant  star  that  seemed  to  twinkle  on  the  waters,  like 
those  which,  according  to  the  legends  of  the  country,  the 
water-kelpy  sends  for  the  purpose  of  indicating  the  watery 
grave  of  his  victims.  Then  it  advanced  nearer,  brightening 
and  enlarging  as  it  again  approached,  till  the  broad  flickering 
flame  rendered  bank  and  rock  and  tree  visible  as  it  passed, 
tinging  them  with  its  own  red  glare  of  dusky  light,  and  re- 
signing them  gradually  to  darkness,  or  to  pale  moonlight,  as 
it  receded.  By  this  light  also  were  seen  the  figures  in  the 
boat,  now  holding  high  their  weapons,  now  stooping  to  strike, 
now  standing  upright,  bronzed,  by  the  same  red  glare,  into 
a  colour  which  might  have  befitted  the  regions  of  Pande- 
monium. 

Having  amused  himself  for  some  time  with  these  efifects  of 
light  and  shadow,  Brown  strolled  homewards  towards  the 
farmhouse,  gazing  in  his  way  at  the  persons  engaged  in  the 
sport,  two  or  three  of  whom  are  generally  kept  together,  one 
holding  the  torch,  the  others  with  their  spears,  ready  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  light  it  affords  to  strike  their  prey.  As 
he  observed  one  man  struggling  with  a  very  weighty  salmon 
which  he  had  speared  but  was  unable  completely  to  raise 
from  the  water.  Brown  advanced  close  to  the  bank  to  see 
the  issue  of  his  exertions.  The  man  who  held  the  torch  in 
this  instance  was  the  huntsman,  whose  sulky  demeanour 
Brown  had  already  noticed  with  surprise. 

'Come  here,  sir !  come  here,  sir !  look  at  this  ane !  He 
turns  up  a  side  like  a  sow.'  Such  was  the  cry  from  the  as- 
sistants when  some  of  them  observed  Brown  advancing. 


198  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Ground  the  waster  weel,  man ! — ground  the  waster  weel ! 
— hand  him  down — ye  haena  the  pith  o'  a  cat !' — were  the 
cries  of  advice,  encouragement,  and  expostulation,  from  those 
who  were  on  the  bank,  to  the  sportsman  engaged  with  the 
salmon,  who  stood  up  to  his  middle  in  water,  jingling  among 
broken  ice,  struggling  against  the  force  of  the  fish  and  the 
strength  of  the  current,  and  dubious  in  what  manner  he 
should  attempt  to  secure  his  booty.  As  Brown  came  to  the 
edge  of  the  bank,  he  called  out — "Hold  up  your  torch,  friend 
huntsman  ;*  for  he  had  already  distinguished  his  dusky  fea- 
tures by  the  strong  light  cast  upon  them  by  the  blaze.  But 
the  fellow  no  sooner  heard  his  voice,  and  saw,  or  rather  con- 
cluded, it  was  Brown  who  approached  him.  than,  instead  of 
advancing  his  light,  he  let  it  drop,  as  if  accidently,  into  the 
water. 

'The  deil's  in  Gabriel !'  said  the  spearman,  as  the  frag- 
ments of  glowing  wood  floated  half-blazing,  half  sparkling, 
but  soon  extinguished,  down  the  stream — 'the  deil's  in  the 
man  ! — I'll  never  master  him  without  the  light — and  a  braver 
kipper,  could  I  but  land  him,  never  reisted  abune  a  pair  o' 
cleeks.'"  Some  dashed  into  the  water  to  lend  their  assistance, 
and  the  fish,  which  was  afterwards  found  to  weigh  nearly 
thirty  pounds,  was  landed  in  safety. 

The  behaviour  of  the  huntsman  struck  Brown,  although 
he  had  no  recollection  of  his  face,  nor  could  conceive  why 
he  should,  as  it  appeared  he  evidently  did,  shun  his  observa- 
tion. Could  it  be  one  of  the  footpads  he  had  encountered  a 
few  days  before?  The  supposition  was  not  altogether  im- 
probable, although  unwarranted  by  any  observation  he  was 
able  to  make  upon  the  man's  figure  and  face.  To  be  sure, 
the  villains  wore  their  hats  much  slouched,  and  had  loose 
coats,  and  their  size  was  not  in  any  way  so  peculiarly  dis- 
criminated as  to  enable  him  to  resort  to  that  criterion.  He 
resolved  to  speak  to  his  host  Dinmont  on  the  subject,  but 
for  obvious  reasons  concluded  it  were  best  to  defer  the  ex- 
planation until  a  cool  hour  in  the  morning. 

The  sportsmen  returned  loaded  with  fish,  upwards  of  one 
hundred  salmon  having  been  killed  within  the  range  of  their 
sport.  The  best  were  selected  for  the  use  of  the  principal 
farmers,  the  others  divided  among  their  shepherds,  cottars. 


GUY    MANXERING  199 

dependants,  and  others  of  inferior  rank  who  attended.  These 
fish,  dried  in  the  turf  smoke  of  their  cabins,  or  shealings, 
formed  a  savoury  addition  to  the  mess  of  potatoes,  mixed 
with  onions,  which  was  the  principal  part  of  their  winter 
food.  In  the  meanwhile  a  liberal  distribution  of  ale  and 
whisky  was  made  among  them,  besides  what  was  called  a 
kettle  of  fish, — two  or  three  salmon,  namely,  plunged  into  a 
cauldron,  and  boiled  for  their  supper.  Brown  accompanied 
his  jolly  landlord  and  the  rest  of  his  friends  into  the  large  and 
smoky  kitchen,  where  this  savoury  mess  reeked  on  an  oaken 
table,  massive  enough  to  have  dined  Johnnie  Armstrong  and 
his  merry  men.  All  was  hearty  cheer  and  huzza,  and  jest 
and  clamorous  laughter,  and  bragging  alternately,  and  raillery 
between  whiles.  Our  traveller  looked  earnestly  around  for 
the  dark  countenance  of  the  fox-hunter ;  but  it  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen. 

At  length  he  hazarded  a  question  concerning  him.  'That 
was  an  awkward  accident,  my  lads,  of  one  of  you.  who 
dropped  his  torch  in  the  water  when  his  companion  was 
struggling  with  the  large  fish.' 

'Awkward!'  returned  a  shepherd,  looking  up  (the  same 
stout  young  fellow  who  had  speared  the  salmon),  'he  de- 
served his  paiks  for't — to  put  out  the  light  when  the  fish  was 
on  ane's  witters !  * — I'm  weel  convinced  Gabriel  drapped  the 
roughies"  in  the  water  on  purpose — he  doesna  like  to  see 
onybody  do  a  thing  better  than  himsell.' 

'Aye,'  said  another,  'he's  sair  shamed  o'  himsell.  else  he 
would  have  been  up  here  the  night — Gabriel  likes  a  little  o' 
the  gude  thing  as  weel  as  ony  o'  us.' 

'Is  he  of  this  country?'  said  Brown. 

'Na.  na,  he's  been  but  shortly  in  office :  but  he's  a  fell 
hunter — he's  frae  down  the  country,  some  gate  on  the 
Dumfries  side.' 

'And  what's  his  name,  pray?' 

'Gabriel.' 

'But  Gabriel  what  ?' 

*  The  barbs  of  the  spear. 

^  When  dry  splinters,  or  branches,  are  used  as  fuel  to  supply  the  light 
for  burning  the  water,  as  it  is  called,  they  are  termed,  as  in  the  text, 
Roughies.  When  rags,  dipped  in  tar,  are  employed,  they  are  called  Hards, 
probably  from  the  French. 


200  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Oh,  Lord  kens  that;  we  dinna  mind  folk's  afternames 
muckle  here,  they  run  sae  muckle  into  clans.' 

'Ye  see.  sir,'  said  an  old  shepherd,  rising  and  speaking  very 
slow,  'the  folks  hereabout  are  a"  Armstrongs  and  Elliots," 
and  sic  like — twa  or  three  given  names — and  so.  for  dis- 
tinction's sake,  the  lairds  and  farmers  have  the  names  of 
their  places  that  they  live  at — as  for  example,  Tarn  o' 
Todshaw,  Will  o'  the  Flat,  Hobbie  o'  Sorbietrees,  and  our 
good  master  here,  o'  the  Charlies-hope. — Aweel,  sir,  and 
then  the  inferior  sort  o'  people  ye'U  observe,  are  kend  by 
sorts  o'  by-names  some  o'  them,  as  Glaiket  Christie,  and  the 
Deuke's  Davie,  or  maybe,  like  this  lad  Gabriel,  by  his  em- 
ployment ;  as  for  example,  Tod  Gabbie,  or  Hunter  Gabbie. 
He's  no  been  lang  here,  sir,  and  I  dinna  think  onybody  kens 
him  by  ony  other  name.  But  it's  no  right  to  rin  him  doun 
ahint  his  back,  for  he's  a  fell  fox-hunter,  though  he's  maybe 
no  just  sae  clever  as  some  o'  the  folk  hereawa  wi'  the  waster.* 

After  some  further  desultory  conversation,  the  superior 
sportsmen  retired  to  conclude  the  evening  after  their  own 
manner,  leaving  the  others  to  enjoy  themselves,  unawed  by 
their  presence.  That  evening,  like  all  those  which  Brown 
had  passed  at  Charlies-hope,  was  spent  in  much  innocent 
mirth  and  conviviality.  The  latter  might  have  approached 
to  the  verge  of  riot,  but  for  the  good  woman;  for  several 
of  the  neighbouring  mistresses  (a  phrase  of  a  signification 
how  different  from  what  it  bears  in  more  fashionable  life!) 
had  assembled  at  Charlies-hope  to  witness  the  event  of  this 
memorable  evening.  Finding  the  punch-bowl  was  so  often 
replenished,  that  there  was  some  danger  of  their  gracious 
presence  being  forgotten,  they  rushed  in  valorously  upon  the 
recreant  revellers,  headed  by  our  good  mistress  Ailie,  so  that 
Venus  speedily  routed  Bacchus.  The  fiddler  and  piper  next 
made  their  appearance,  and  the  best  part  of  the  night  was 
gallantly  consumed  in  dancing  to  their  music. 

An  otter-hunt  the  next  day,  and  a  badger-baiting  the  day 
after,  consumed  the  time  merrily. — I  hope  our  traveller  will 
not  sink  in  the  reader's  estimation,  sportsman  though  he 
may  be,  when  I  inform  him,  that  on  this  last  occasion,  after 
young  Pepper  had  lost  a  fore-foot,  and  Mustard  the  second 
had  been  nearly  throttled,  he  begged,  as  a  particular  and 


GUY    MANNERIXG  201 

personal  favour  of  Mr.  Dinmont,  that  the  poor  badger,  who 
had  made  so  gallant  a  defence,  should  be  permitted  to  retire 
to  his  earth  without  further  molestation. 

The  farmer,  who  would  probably  have  treated  this  request 
with  supreme  contempt  had  it  come  from  any  other  person, 
was  contented,  in  Brown's  case,  to  express  the  utter  ex- 
tremity of  his  wonder.  'Weel.'  he  said,  'that's  queer  eneugh ! 
— But  since  ye  take  his  part,  deil  a  tyke  shall  meddle 
wi'  him  mair  in  my  day — we'll  e'en  mark  him,  and  ca' 
him  the  Captain's  brock — and  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  I  can 
do  onything  to  oblige  you — but,  Lord  save  us,  to  care  about 
a  brock !' 

After  a  week  spent  in  rural  sport,  and  distinguished  by 
the  most  frank  attentions  on  the  part  of  his  honest  landlord, 
Brown  bade  adieu  to  the  banks  of  the  Liddel,  and  the  hos- 
pitality of  Charlies-hope.  The  children,  with  all  of  whom 
he  had  now  become  an  intimate  and  ?  favourite,  roared  man- 
fully in  full  chorus  at  his  departure,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
promise  twenty  times,  that  he  would  soon  return  and  play 
over  all  their  favourite  tunes  upon  the  flageolet  till  they  had 
got  them  by  heart.  'Come  back  again.  Captain,'  said  one 
little  sturdy  fellow,  'and  Jenny  will  be  your  wife.'  Jenny 
was  about  eleven  years  old:  she  ran  and  hid  herself  behind 
her  mammy. 

'Captain,  come  back,'  said  a  little  fat  roll-about  girl  of  six, 
holding  her  mouth  up  to  be  kissed,  'and  I'll  be  your  wife 
my  ainsell.' 

'They  must  be  of  harder  mould  than  I,'  thought  Brown, 
'who  could  part  from  so  many  kind  hearts  with  indifference." 
The  good  dame  too,  with  matron  modesty,  and  an  affec- 
tionate simplicity  that  marked  the  olden  time,  offered  her 
cheek  to  the  departing  guest— 'It's  little  the  like  of  us  can 
do,'  she  said,  'little  indeed — but  yet — if  there  were  but  ony- 
thing  ' 

'Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dinmont,  you  embolden  me  to  make 
a  request — would  you  but  have  the  kindness  to  weave  mc,  or 
work  me,  just  such  a  grey  plaid  as  the  goodman  wears?' 
He  had  learned  the  language  and  feelings  of  the  country 
even  during  the  short  time  of  his  residence,  and  was  aware 
of  the  pleasure  the  request  would  confer. 


202  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'A  tait  o'  woo'  would  be  scarce  amang  us,'  said  the  good- 
wife,  brightening,  'if  ye  shouldna  hae  that,  and  a?  gude  a 
tweel  as  ever  cam  aff  a  pirn.  I'll  speak  to  Johnnie  Goodsire. 
the  weaver  at  the  Castletown,  the  morn.  Fare  ye  weel.  sir ! 
— and  may  ye  be  just  as  happy  yoursell  as  ye  like  to  see  a' 
body  else — and  that  would  be  a  sair  wish  to  some  folk.' 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention,  that  our  traveller  left  his 
trusty  attendant  Wasp  to  be  a  guest  at  Charlies-hope  for  a 
season.  He  foresaw  that  he  might  prove  a  troublesome  at- 
tendant in  the  event  of  his  being  in  any  situation  where 
secrecy  and  concealment  might  be  necessary.  He  was  there- 
fore consigned  to  the  care  of  the  eldest  boy,  who  promised, 
in  the  words  of  the  old  song,  that  he  should  have 

A  bit  of  his  supper,  a  bit  of  his  bed, 

and  that  he  should  be  engaged  in  none  of  those  perilous 
pastimes  in  which  the  race  of  Mustard  and  Pepper  had 
suffered  frequent  mutilation.  Brown  now  prepared  for  his 
journey,  having  taken  a  temporary  farewell  of  his  trusty 
little  companion. 

There  is  an  odd  prejudice  in  these  hills  in  favour  of  riding. 
Every  farmer  rides  well,  and  rides  the  whole  day.  Probably 
the  extent  of  their  large  pasture  farms,  and  the  necessity  of 
surveying  them  rapidly,  first  introduced  this  custom;  or  a 
very  zealous  antiquary  might  derive  it  from  the  times  of  the 
Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  when  twenty  thousand  horsemen 
assembled  at  the  light  of  the  beacon-fires.^  But  the  truth  is 
undeniable ;  they  like  to  be  on  horseback,  and  can  be  with 
difficulty  convinced  that  any  one  chooses  walking  from  other 
motives  than  those  of  convenience  or  necessity.  Accord- 
ingly. Dinmont  insisted  upon  mounting  his  guest,  and  accom- 
panying him  on  horseback  as  far  as  the  nearest  town  in 
Dumfries-shire,  where  he  had  directed  his  baggage  to  be 
sent,  and  from  which  he  proposed  to  pursue  his  intended 
journey  towards  Woodbourne,  the  residence  of  Julia  Man- 


>  It  would  be  affectation  tn  alter  this  reference.  But  the  reader  will 
understand,  that  it  was  inserted  to  keep  vip  the  author's  incognito,  as  he  was 
not  likely  to  be  suspected  of  quoting  his  own  works.  This  explanation  is 
also  applicable  to  one  or  two  similar  passages,  in  this  and  the  other  novels, 
introduced  for  the  same  reason. 


GUY    MANXERIXG  203 

Upon  the  way  he  questioned  his  companion  concerning 
the  character  of  the  fox-hunter;  but  gained  little  informa- 
tion, as  he  had  been  called  to  that  office  while  Dinmont 
was  making  the  round  of  the  Highland  fairs.  "He  was  a 
shake-rag  like  fellow,'  he  said,  "and,  he  dared  to  say,  had 
gipsy  blood  in  his  veins ;  but  at  ony  rate,  he  was  nane  o' 
the  smacks  that  had  been  on  their  quarters  in  the  moss — he 
would  ken  them  weel  if  he  saw  them  again.  There  are  some 
no  bad  folk  amang  the  gipsies  too,  to  be  sic  a  gang.'  added 
Dandie ;  'if  ever  I  see  that  auld  randle-tree  of  a  wife  again, 
I'll  gie  her  something  to  buy  tobacco — I  have  a  great  notion 
she  meant  me  very  fair  after  a'.' 

When  they  were  about  finally  to  part,  the  good  farmer 
held  Brown  long  by  the  hand,  and  at  length  said,  'Captain, 
the  woo's  sae  weel  up  the  year,  that  it's  paid  a'  the  rent,  and 
we  have  naething  to  do  wi'  the  rest  o'  the  siller  when  Ailie 
has  had  her  new  gown,  and  the  bairns  their  bits  o"  duds — 
now  I  was  thinking  of  some  safe  hand  to  put  it  into,  for  it's 
ower  muckle  to  ware  on  brandy  and  sugar — now  I  have 
heard  that  you  army  gentlemen  can  sometimes  buy  yoursells 
up  a  step;  and  if  a  hundred  or  twa  would  help  ye  on  such  an 
occasion,  the  bit  scrape  o'  your  pen  would  be  as  good  to  me 
as  the  siller,  and  ye  might  just  take  yere  ain  time  o'  settling 
it — it  wad  be  a  great  convenience  to  me.'  Brown,  who  felt 
the  full  delicacy  that  wished  to  disguise  the  conferring  an 
obligation  under  the  show  of  asking  a  favour,  thanked  his 
grateful  friend  most  heartily,  and  assured  him  he  would 
have  recourse  to  his  purse,  without  scruple,  should  circum- 
stances ever  render  it  convenient  for  him.  And  thus  they 
parted  with  many  expressions  of  mutual  regard. 


D— 8 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

If  thou  hast  any  love  of  mercy  in  thee. 
Turn  me  upon  my   face,  that  I   may  die. 

Joanna   Baillie. 

UR  traveller  hired  a  post-chaise  at  the  place  where 
he  separated  from  Dinmont,  with  the  purpose  of 
proceeding  to  Kippletringan,  there  to  inquire  into  the 
state  of  the  family  at  Woodbourne,  before  he  should  venture 
to  make  his  presence  in  the  country  known  to  Miss  Man- 
nering.  The  stage  was  a  long  one  of  eighteen  or  twenty 
miles,  and  the  road  lay  across  the  country.  To  add  to  the 
inconveniences  of  the  journey,  the  snow  began  to  fall  pretty 
quickly.  The  postilion,  however,  proceeded  on  his  journey 
for  a  good  many  miles,  without  expressing  doubt  or  hesita- 
tion. It  was  not  until  the  night  was  completely  set  in, 
that  he  intimated  his  apprehensions  whether  he  was  in  the 
right  road.  The  increasing  snow  rendered  this  intimation 
rather  alarming,  for  as  it  drove  full  in  the  lad's  face,  and 
lay  whitening  all  around  him,  it  served  in  two  different 
ways  to  confuse  his  knowledge  of  the  country,  and  to 
diminish  the  chance  of  his  recovering  the  right  track. 
Brown  then  himself  got  out  and  looked  round,  not,  it  may 
well  be  imagined,  from  any  better  hope  than  that  of  seeing 
some  house  at  which  he  might  make  inquiry.  But  none 
appeared — he  could  therefore  only  tell  the  lad  to  drive 
steadily  on.  The  road  on  which  they  were  ran  through 
plantations  of  considerable  extent  and  depth,  and  the  travel- 
ler therefore  conjectured  that  there  must  be  a  gentleman's 
house  at  no  great  distance.  At  length,  after  struggling 
wearily  on  for  about  a  mile,  the  post-boy  stopped,  and 
protested  his  horses  would  not  budge  a  foot  farther;  'but 
he  sd.\v,'  he  said,  'a  light  among  the  trees,  which  must 
proceed  from  a  house;  the  only  way  was  to  inquire  the 
road  there.'  Accordingly,  he  dismounted,  heavily  encum- 
bered with  a  long  great-coat  and  a  pair  of  boots  which  might 

204 


GUY    MANNERING  205 

have  rivalled  in  thickness  the  sevenfold  shield  of  Ajax.  As 
in  this  guise  he  was  plodding  forth  upon  his  voyage  of 
discovery,  Brown's  impatience  prevailed,  and,  jumping  out 
of  the  carriage,  he  desired  the  lad  to  stop  where  he  was 
by  the  horses,  and  he  would  himself  go  to  the  house — 
a  command  which  the  driver  most  joyfully  obeyed. 

Our  traveller  groped  along  the  side  of  the  enclosure  from 
which  the  light  glimmered,  in  order  to  find  some  mode  of 
approaching    in    that    direction,    and    after    proceeding    for 
some    space,    at   length    found    a    stile    in    the   hedge,    and 
a  pathway  leading  into  the  plantation,  which  in  that  place 
was  of  great  extent.     This  promised  to  lead  to  the  light 
which  was  the  object  of  his  search,  and  accordingly  Brown 
proceeded  in  that  direction,  but   soon  totally  lost  sight  of 
iX  among  the  trees.     The  path,  which  at  first  seemed  broad 
and  well  marked  by  the  opening  of  the  wood  through  which 
it  winded,  was  now  less  easily  distinguishable,  although  the 
whiteness  of  the  snow  afforded  some  reflected  light  to  assist 
his  search.     Directing  himself  as  much  as  possible  through 
the   more   open   parts    of   the    wood,   he    proceeded    almost 
a  mile  without  either  recovering  a  view   of  the  light,  or 
seeing  anything  resembling  a  habitation.     Still,  however,  he 
thought    it   best    to    persevere    in    that   direction.      It    must 
surely  have  been  a  light  in  the  hut  of  a  forester,  for  it  shone 
too  steadily   to   be  the   glimmer   of  an  ignis  fatuns.     The 
ground    at    length    became    broken,    and    declined    rapidly; 
and  although   Brown  conceived  he  still  moved  along  what 
had  once  at  least  been  a  pathway,  it  was  now  very  unequal, 
and  the   snow   concealing   those  breaches   and   inequalities, 
the   traveller   had   one   or   two    falls    in   consequence.      He 
began  now  to  think  of  turning  back,  especially  as    the  fall- 
ing snow,  which  his  impatience  had  hitherto  prevented  his 
attending  to,  was  coming  on  thicker  and  faster. 

Willing,  however,  to  make  a  last  effort,  he  still  advanced 
a  little  way,  when,  to  his  great  delight,  he  beheld  the  light 
opposite  at  no  great  distance,  and  apparently  upon  a  level 
with  him.  He  quickly  found  that  this  last  appearance  was 
deception,  for  the  ground  continued  so  rapidly  to  sink,  as 
made  it  obvious  there  was  a  deep  dell,  or  ravine  of  some 
kind,  between  him  and  the  object  of  his  search.     Taking 


206  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

every  precaution  to  preserve  his  footing,  he  continued  to 
descend  until  he  reached  the  bottom  of  a  very  steep  and 
narrow  glen,  through  w^hich  winded  a  small  rivulet,  whose 
course  was  then  almost  choked  with  snow.  He  now  found 
himself  embarrassed  among  the  ruins  of  cottages,  whose 
black  gables,  rendered  more  distinguishable  by  the  contrast 
with  the  whitened  surface  from  which  they  rose,  were  still 
standing;  the  side  walls  had  long  since  given  way  to  time, 
and,  piled  in  shapeless  heaps,  and  covered  with  snow,  offered 
frequent  and  embarrassing  obstacles  to  our  traveller's  prog- 
ress. Still,  however,  he  persevered — crossed  the  rivulet, 
not  without  some  trouble,  and  at  length,  by  exertions  which 
became  more  painful  and  perilous,  ascended  its  opposite  and 
very  rugged  bank,  until  he  came  on  a  level  with  the  build- 
ing from  which  the  gleam  proceeded. 

It  was  difficult,  especially  by  so  imperfect  a  light,  to 
discover  the  nature  of  this  edifice ;  but  it  seemed  a  square 
building  of  small  size,  the  upper  part  of  which  was  totally 
ruinous.  It  had,  perhaps,  been  the  abode,  in  former  times, 
of  some  lesser  proprietor,  or  a  place  of  strength  and  con- 
cealment in  case  of  need  for  one  of  greater  importance. 
But  only  the  lower  vault  remained,  the  arch  of  which  formed 
the  roof  in  the  present  state  of  the  building.  Brown  first 
approached  the  place  from  whence  the  light  proceeded,  which 
was  a  long  narrow  slit  or  loophole,  such  as  usually  are  to 
be  found  in  old  castles.  Impelled  by  curiosity  to  reconnoitre 
the  interior  of  this  strange  place  before  he  entered.  Brown 
gazed  in  at  this  aperture.  A  scene  of  greater  desolution 
could  not  well  be  imagined.  There  was  a  fire  upon  the 
floor,  the  smoke  of  which,  after  circling  through  the  apart- 
ment, escaped  by  a  hole  broken  in  the  arch  above.  The 
walls,  seen  by  this  smoky  light,  had  the  rude  and  waste 
appearance  of  a  ruin  of  three  centuries  old  at  least.  A 
cask  or  two,  with  some  broken  boxes  and  packages,  lay 
about  the  place  in  confusion.  But  the  inmates  chiefly  oc- 
cupied Brown's  attention.  Upon  a  lair  composed  of  straw, 
with  a  blanket  stretched  over  it,  lay  a  figure,  so  still,  that, 
except  that  it  was  not  dressed  in  the  ordinary  habiliments 
of  the  grave.  Brown  would  have  concluded  it  to  be  a  corpse. 
On  a  steadier  view  he  perceived  it  was  only  on  the  point 


GUY    MANNERIXG  207 

of  becoming  so,  for  he  heard  one  or  two  of  those  low, 
deep,  and  hard-drawn  sighs,  that  precede  dissohition  when 
the  frame  is  tenacious  of  Hfe.  A  female  figure,  dressed  in 
a  long  cloak,  sat  on  a  stone  by  this  miserable  couch;  her 
elbows  rested  upon  her  knees,  and  her  face,  averted  from 
the  light  of  an  iron  lamp  beside  her,  was  bent  upon  that 
of  the  dying  person.  She  moistened  his  mouth  from  time 
to  time  with  some  liquid,  and  between  whiles  sung,  in  a 
low,  monotonous  cadence,  one  of  those  prayers,  or  rather 
spells,  which,  in  some  parts  of  Scotland  and  the  north  of 
England,  are  used  by  the  vulgar  and  ignorant  to  speed  the 
passage  of  a  parting  spirit,  like  the  tolling  of  the  bell  in 
Catholic  days.  She  accompanied  this  dismal  sound  with 
a  slow  rocking  motion  of  her  body  to  and  fro,  as  if  to  keep 
time  with  her  song.     The  words  ran  nearly  thus: — 

'Wasted,  weary,   wherefore   stay, 
Wrestling  thus  with  earth  and  clay? 
From  the  body  pass  away ; — 

Hark  !    the    mass    is    singing. 

From  thee  doff  thy  mortal  weed, 
Mary   Mother   be  thy   speed. 
Saints  to  help  thee  at  thy  need ; — 

Hark  !    the   knell    is   ringing. 

Fear  not  snow-drift  driving  fast. 
Sleet,  or  hail,  or  levin  blast ; 
Soon  the   shroud  shall  lap  thee  fast. 
And  the  sleep  be  on  thee  cast 

That  shall   ne'er  know  waking. 

Haste  thee,  haste  thee,  to  be  gone, — 
Earth  flits   fast,   and   time  draws  on, — 
Gasp  thy  gasp,  and  groan  thy  groan. 

Day  is  near  the  breaking.' 

The  songstress  paused,  and  was  answered  by  one  or  two 
deep  and  hollow  groans,  that  seemed  to  proceed  from  the 
very  agony  of  the  mortal  strife.  'It  will  not  be,'  she  mut- 
tered to  herself ;  'he  cannot  pass  away  with  that  on  his 
mind — it  tethers  him  here — 

Heaven    cannot   abide    it, 
Earth  refuses  to  hide  it. 


208  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

I  must  open  the  door;'  and  rising,  she  faced  towards  the 
door  of  the  apartment,  observing  heedfuUy  not  to  turn 
back  her  head,  and,  withdrawing  a  bolt  or  two  (for,  not- 
withstanding the  miserable  appearance  of  the  place,  the 
door  was  cautiously  secured)  she  lifted  the  latch,  saying, 

'Open  lock — end  strife, 
Come  death,  and  pass  life.' 

Brown,  who  had  by  this  time  moved  from  his  post,  stood 
before  her  as  she  opened  the  door.  She  stepped  back 
a  pace,  and  he  entered,  instantly  recognizing,  but  with  no 
comfortable  sensation,  the  same  gipsy  woman  whom  he 
had  met  in  Bewcastle.  She  also  knew  him  at  once,  and 
her  attitude,  figure,  and  the  anxiety  of  her  countenance, 
assumed  the  appearance  of  the  well-disposed  ogress  of  a 
fairy  tale,  warning  a  stranger  not  to  enter  the  dangerous 
castle  of  her  husband.  The  first  words  she  spoke  (holding 
up  her  hands  in  a  reproving  manner)  were,  'Said  I  not 
to  ye.  Make  not,  meddle  not? — Beware  of  the  redding 
straik  !*  you  are  come  to  no  house  o'  fair-strae  death.' 
So  saying,  she  raised  the  lamp,  and  turned  its  light  on  the 
dying  man,  whose  rude  and  harsh  features  were  now  con- 
vulsed with  the  last  agony.  A  roll  of  linen  about  his  head 
was  stained  with  blood,  which  had  soaked  also  through  the 
blankets  and  the  straw.  It  was,  indeed,  under  no  natural 
disease  that  the  wretch  was  suffering.  Brown  started  back 
from  this  horrible  object,  and  turning  to  the  gipsy  exclaimed. 
'Wretched  woman,  who  has  done  this?' 

'They  that  were  permitted,'  answered  Meg  Merrilies, 
while  she  scanned  with  a  close  and  keen  glance  the  features 
of  the  expiring  man.— 'He  has  had  a  sair  struggle— but 
it  's  passing:  I  kenn'd  he  would  pass  when  you  came  in.— 
That  was  the  death-ruckle — he's  dead.' 

Sounds  were  now  heard  at  a  distance,  as  of  voices. 
They  are  coming,'  said  she  to  Brown;  'you  are  a  dead 
man,  if  ye  had  as  mony  lives  as  hairs.'  Brown  eagerly 
looked  round  for  some  weapon  of  defence.  There  was  none 
near.     He  then  rushed  to  the  door  with  the  intention  of 

i  The  redding  straik,  namely,  a  blow  received  by  a  peacemaker  who  inter- 
feres betwixt  two  combatants  to  red  or  separate  them,  is  proverbially  said 
to  be  the  most  dangerous  blow  a  man  can  receive. 


GUY    MANNER  I XG  209 

plunging  among  the  trees,  and  making  his  escape  by  flight, 
from  what  he  now  esteemed  a  den  of  murderers,  but  Mer- 
riHes  held  him  with  a  mascuHue  grasp.  'Here,'  she  said, 
'here— be  still,  and  you  are  safe— stir  not,  whatever  you 
see  or  hear,  and  nothing  shall  befall  you.' 

Brown,  in  these  desperate  circumstances,  remembered 
this  woman's  intimation  formerly,  and  thought  he  had 
no  chance  of  safety  but  in  obeying  her.  She  caused  him 
to  couch  down  among  a  parcel  of  straw  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  apartment  from  the  corpse,  covered  him  care- 
fully, and  flung  over  him  two  or  three  old  sacks  which  lay 
about  the  place.  Anxious  to  observe  what  was  to  happen, 
Brown  arranged,  as  softly  as  he  could,  the  means  of  peeping 
from  under  the  coverings  by  which  he  was  hidden,  and 
awaited  with  a  throbbing  heart  the  issue  of  this  strange 
and  most  unpleasant  adventure.  The  old  gipsy  in  the 
meantime,  set  about  arranging  the  dead  body,  composing 
its  limbs,  and  straightening  the  arms  by  its  side.  'Best 
to  do  this,'  she  muttered,  "ere  he  stiffen.'  She  placed  on 
the  dead  man's  breast  a  trencher,  with  salt  sprinkled  upoo 
it,  set  one  candle  at  the  head,  and  another  at  the  feet  of 
the  body,  and  lighted  both.  Then  she  resumed  her  song, 
and  awaited  the  approach  of  those  whose  voices  had  been 
heard  without. 

Brown  was  a  soldier,  and  a  brave  one;  but  he  was  also 
a  man,  and  at  this  moment  his  fears  mastered  his  courage 
so  completely,  that  the  cold  drops  burst  out  from  every  pore. 
The  idea  of  being  dragged  out  of  his  miserable  concealment 
by  wretches  whose  trade  was  that  of  midnight  murder, 
without  weapons  or  the  slightest  means  of  defence,  except 
entreaties  which  would  be  only  their  sport,  and  cries  for 
help  which  could  never  reach  other  ear  than  their  own — 
his  safety  entrusted  to  the  precarious  compassion  of  a  being 
associated  with  these  felons,  and  whose  trade  of  rapine 
and  imposture  must  have  hardened  her  against  every  human 

feeling the    bitterness    of    his    emotions    almost    choked 

him.  He  endeavoured  to  read  in  her  withered  and  dark 
countenance,  as  the  lamp  threw  its  light  upon  her  features, 
something  that  promised  those  feelings  of  compassion,  which 
females,  even  in  their  most  degraded  state,  can  seldom  alto- 


210  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

gether  smother.  There  was  no  such  touch  of  humanity 
about  this  woman.  The  interest,  whatever  it  was,  that 
determined  her  in  his  favour,  arose  not  from  the  impulse 
of  compassion,  but  from  some  internal,  and  probably  capri- 
cious, association  of  feelings  to  which  he  had  no  clue. 
It  rested,  perhaps,  on  a  fancied  likeness,  such  as  Lady 
Macbeth  found  to  her  father  in  the  sleeping  monarch.  Such 
were  the  reflections  that  passed  in  rapid  succession  through 
Brown's  mind  as  he  gazed  from  his  hiding-place  upon  this 
extraordinary  personage.  Meantime  the  gang  did  not  yet 
approach,  and  he  was  almost  prompted  to  resume  his  orig- 
inal intention  of  attempting  an  escape  from  the  hut,  and 
cursed  internally  his  own  irresolution  which  had  consented 
to  his  being  cooped  up  where  he  had  neither  room  for  re- 
sistance nor  flight. 

Meg  Merrilies  seemed  equally  on  the  watch.  She  bent 
her  ear  to  every  sound  that  whistled  round  the  old  walls. 
Then  she  turned  again  to  the  dead  body,  and  found  some- 
thing new  to  arrange  or  alter  in  its  position.  'He's  a 
bonny  corpse,'  she  muttered  to  herself,  'and  weel  worth 
the  streaking.' — And  in  this  dismal  occupation  she  appeared 
to  feel  a  sort  of  professional  pleasure,  entering  slowly  into 
all  the  minutiae  as  if  with  the  skill  and  feelings  of  a  con- 
noisseur. A  long  dark-coloured  sea-cloak,  which  she  dragged 
out  of  a  corner,  was  disposed  for  a  pall.  The  face  she  left 
bare,  after  closing  the  mouth  and  eyes,  and  arranged  the 
capes  of  the  cloak  so  as  to  hide  the  bloody  bandages,  and 
give  the  body,  as  she  muttered,  'a  mair  decent  appearance.' 

At  once  three  or  four  men,  equally  ruffians  in  appearance 
and  dress,  rushed  into  the  hut.  'Meg,  ye  limb  of  Satan, 
how  dare  you  leave  the  door  open?'  was  the  first  salutation 
of  the  party. 

'And  wha  ever  heard  of  a  door  being  barred  when  a  man 
was  in  the  dead-thraw? — how  d'ye  think  the  spirit  was 
to  get  awa  through  bolts  and  bars  like  thae?' 

'Is  he  dead,  then?'  said  one  who  went  to  the  side  of  the 
couch  to  look  at  the  body. 

'Aye,  aye — dead  enough,'  said  another — 'but  here's  what 
shall  give  him  a  rousing  lykevvake.'  So  saying,  he  fetched  a 
keg  of  spirits  from  a  corner,  while  Meg  hastened  to  dis- 


GUY    MANNERING  311 

play  pipes  and  tobacco.  From  the  activity  with  which  she 
undertook  the  task,  Brown  conceived  good  hope  of  her 
fidelity  towards  her  guest.  It  was  obvious  that  she  wished 
to  engage  the  ruffians  in  their  debauch,  to  prevent  the  dis- 
covery which  might  take  place,  if,  by  accident,  any  of  them 
should  approach  too  nearly  the  place  of  Brown's  conceal- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Nor  board  nor  garner  own  we  now, 

Nor  roof  nor  latched  door, 
Nor   kind   mate,   bound,   by   holy   vow, 

To  bless   a  good   man's   store. 
Noon  lulls  us  in  a  gloomy  den, 

And  night  is  grown  our  day ; 
Uprouse  ye,  then,  my  merry  men  ! 

And  use  it  as  ye  may. 

Joanna  Baillie. 

BROWN  could  now  reckon  his  foes; — they  were  five 
in  number;  two  of  them  were  very  powerful  men. 
who  appeared  to  be  either  real  seamen,  or  strollers 
who  assumed  that  character;  the  other  three,  an  old  man 
and  two  lads,  were  slighter  made,  and,  from  their  black  hair 
and  dark  complexion,  seemed  to  belong  to  Meg's  tribe.  They 
passed  from  one  to  another  the  cup  out  of  which  they  drank 
their  spirits.  'Here  's  to  his  good  voyage !'  said  one  of  the 
seamen,  drinking;  'a  squally  night  he's  got,  however,  to 
drift  through  the  sky  in.' 

We  omit  here  various  execrations  with  which  these  honest 
gentlemen  garnished  their  discourse,  retaining  only  such 
of  their  expletives  as  are  least  offensive. 

*  'A  does  not  mind  wind  and  weather — 'A  has  had  many 
a  north-easter  in  his  day.' 

'He  had  his  last  yesterday,'  said  another  gruffly;  'and  now 
old  Meg  may  pray  for  his  last  fair  wind,  as  she  's  often  done 
before.' 

'I'll  pray  for  nane  o'  him,  said  Meg,  'nor  for  you  neither, 
you  randy  dog.  The  times  are  sair  altered  since  I  was  a 
kitchen-mort.*  Men  were  men  then,  and  fought  other  in  the 
open  field,  and  there  was  nae  milling  in  the  darkmans.^  And 
the  gentry  had  kind  hearts,  and  would  have  given  baith  lap 
and  pannel '  to  ony  puir  gipsy ;  and  there  was  not  one,  from 
Johnnie  Faa,  the  upright  man,*  to  little  Christie  that  was  in 

'A   girl.  -Murder  l)y  night.  3 Liquor  and   food. 

*  The  leader   (and  greatest  rogue)   of  the  gang. 

212 


GUY    MANNERING  213 

the  panniers,  would  cloyed  a  dud*  from  them.  But  ye  arc  a 
altered  from  the  gude  auld  rules,  and  no  wonder  that  you 
scour  the  cramp-ring,  and  trine  to  the  cheat'  sae  often.  Yes, 
ye  are  altered — you'll  eat  the  goodman's  meat,  drink  his  drink, 
sleep  on  the  strammel'  in  his  barn,  and  break  his  house  and 
cut  his  throat  for  his  pains !  There's  blood  on  your  hands, 
too,  ye  dogs — mair  than  ever  came  there  by  fair  fighting.  See 
how  ye'll  die  then — lang  it  was  ere  he  died — he  strove,  and 
strove  sair,  and  could  neither  die  nor  live ; — but  you — half 
the  country  will  see  how  ye'll  grace  the  woodie." 

The  party  set  up  a  hoarse  laugh  at  Meg's  prophecy. 

'What  made  you  come  back  here,  ye  auld  beldam?'  said 
one  of  the  gipsies ;  'could  ye  not  have  stayed  where  you  were, 
and  spaed  fortunes  to  the  Cumberland  flats? — Bing  out  and 
tour,*  ye  auld  devil,  and  see  that  nobody  has  scented ;  that's 
a'  you're  good  for  now.' 

'Is  that  a'  I  am  good  for  now?'  said  the  indignant  matron. 
'I  was  good  for  mair  than  that  in  the  great  fight  between  our 
folk  and  Patrico  Salmon's ;  if  I  had  not  helped  you  with  these 
very  fambles'  (holding  up  her  hands),  'Jean  Baillie  would 
have  frammagcm'd  you'  ye  feckless  do-little !' 

There  was  here  another  laugh,  at  the  expense  of  the  hero 
who  had  received  this  amazon's  assistance. 

'Here,  mother,'  said  one  of  the  sailors,  'here's  a  cup  of  the 
right  for  you,  and  never  mind  that  bully-huff.' 

Meg  drank  the  spirits,  and,  withdrawing  herself  from 
further  conversation,  sat  down  before  the  spot  where  Brown 
lay  hid,  in  such  a  posture  that  it  would  have  been  difficult 
for  any  one  to  have  approached  it  without  her  rising.  The 
men,  however,  showed  no  disposition  to  disturb  her. 

They  closed  around  the  fire,  and  held  deep  consultation 
together ;  but  the  low  tone  in  which  they  spoke,  and  the 
cant  language  which  they  used,  prevented  Brown  from  under- 
standing much  of  their  conversation.  He  gathered  in  gen- 
eral, that  they  expressed  great  indignation  against  some  in- 
dividual. 'He  shall  have  his  gruel,'  said  one,  and  then 
whispered  something  very  low  into  the  ear  of  his  comrade. 

'I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,'  said  the  other. 

*■  Stolen  a  rag.  2  Get  imprisoned  and  hanged.  3  Straw. 

*Go  out  and  watch.  ^  Throttled  you. 


21*  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Are  you  turned  hen-hearted,  Jack?' 

'No,  by  G — d,  no  more  than  yourself, — but  I  won't; — it 
was  something-  Hke  that  stopped  all  the  trade  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  ago — you  have  heard  of  the  Loup?' 

'I  have  heard  hivi'  (indicating  the  corpse  by  a  jerk  of 
his  head)  'tell  about  that  job.  G — d,  how  he  used  to  laugh 
when  he  showed  us  how  he  fetched  him  off  the  perch  !' 

'Well,  but  it  did  up  the  trade  for  one  while,'  said  Jack. 

*How  should  that  be  ?'  asked  the  surly  villain. 

'Why,'  replied  Jack,  'the  people  got  rusty  about  it,  and 
would  not  deal  and  they  had  bought  so  many  brooms' 
and ' 

'Well,  for  all  that.'  said  the  other,  'I  think  we  should  be 
down  upon  the  fellow  one  of  these  darkmans,  and  let  him 
get  it  well.' 

'But  old  Meg's  asleep  now,'  said  another;  'she  grows  a 
driveller  and  is  afraid  of  her  shadow.  She'll  sing  out'  some 
of  these  odd-come-shortlies,  if  you  don't  look  sharp.' 

'Never  fear,'  said  the  old  gipsy  man;  'Meg's  true-bred; 
she's  the  last  in  the  gang  that  will  start — but  she  has  some 
queer  ways,  and  often  cuts  queer  words.' 

With  more  of  this  gibberish,  they  continued  the  conversa- 
tion, rendering  it  thus,  even  to  each  other,  a  dark  obscure 
dialect,  eked  out  by  significant  nods  and  signs,  but  never 
expressing  distinctly  or  in  plain  language  the  subject  on 
which  it  turned.  At  length  one  of  them  observing  Meg  was 
still  fast  asleep,  or  appeared  to  be  so,  desired  one  of  the  lads 
'to  hand  in  the  black  Peter,  that  they  might  flick  it  open.' 
The  boy  stepped  to  the  door  and  brought  in  a  portmanteau, 
which  Brown  instantly  recognized  for  his  own.  His  thoughts 
immediately  turned  to  the  unfortunate  lad  he  had  left  with 
the  carriage.  Had  the  ruffians  murdered  him?  was  the  hor- 
rible doubt  that  crossed  his  mind.  The  agony  of  his  at- 
tention grew  yet  keener,  and  while  the  villains  pulled  out 
and  admired  the  different  articles  of  his  clothes  and  linen 
he  eagerly  listened  for  some  indication  that  might  intimate 
the  fate  of  the  postilion.  But  the  ruffians  were  too  much  de- 
lighted with  their  prize,  and  too  much  busied  in  examining 

•^  Got   so   many  warrants   out. 

-  To  sing  out,  or  whistle  in  the  cage,  is  when  a  rogue,  being  apprehended, 
peaches  against  his  comrades. 


GUY    MANXERING  215 

its  contents,  to  enter  into  any  detail  concerning  the  manner 
in  which  they  had  acquired  it.  The  portmanteau  contained 
various  articles  of  apparel,  a  pair  of  pistols,  a  leathern  case 
with  a  few  papers,  and  some  money,  &c.  &c.  At  any  other 
time  it  would  have  provoked  Brown  excessively  to  see  the 
unceremonious  manner  in  which  the  thieves  shared  his  prop- 
erty, and  made  themselves  merry  at  the  expense  of  the  owner. 
But  the  moment  was  too  perilous  to  admit  any  thoughts  but 
what  had  immediate  reference  to  self-preservation. 

After  a  sufficient  scrutiny  into  the  portmanteau,  and  an 
equitable  division  of  its  contents,  the  ruffians  applied  them- 
selves more  closely  to  the  serious  occupation  of  drinking,  in 
which  they  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night.  Brown  was 
for  some  time  in  great  hopes  that  they  would  drink  so  deep 
as  to  render  themselves  insensible,  when  his  escape  would 
have  been  an  easy  matter.  But  their  dangerous  trade  re- 
quired precautions  inconsistent  with  such  unlimited  in- 
dulgence, and  they  stopped  short  on  this  side  of  absolute  in- 
toxication. Three  of  them  at  length  composed  themselves 
to  rest,  while  the  fourth  watched.  He  was  relieved  in  this 
duty  by  one  of  the  others,  after  a  vigil  of  two  hours.  When 
the  second  watch  had  elapsed,  the  sentinel  awakened  the 
whole,  who,  to  Brown's  inexpressible  relief,  began  to  make 
some  preparations  as  if  for  departure,  bundling  up  the 
various  articles  which  each  had  appropriated.  Still,  however, 
there  remained  something  to  be  done.  Two  of  them,  after 
some  rummaging  which  not  a  little  alarmed  Brown,  pro- 
duced a  mattock  and  shovel ;  another  took  a  pickaxe  from 
behind  the  straw  on  which  the  dead  body  was  extended. 
With  these  implements  two  of  them  left  the  hut,  and  the 
remaining  three,  two  of  whom  were  the  seamen,  very  strong 
men,  still  remained  in  garrison. 

After  the  space  of  about  half  an  hour,  one  of  those  who 
had  departed  again  returned,  and  whispered  the  others. 
They  wrapped  up  the  dead  body  in  the  sea-cloak  which  had 
served  as  a  pall,  and  went  out,  bearing  it  along  with  them. 
The  aged  sibyl  then  arose  from  her  real  or  feigned  slumbers. 
She  first  went  to  the  door,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  watching 
the  departure  of  her  late  inmates,  then  returned,  and  com- 
manded Brown  in  a  low  and  stifled  voice  to  follow  her  in- 


216  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

stantly.  He  obeyed ;  but,  on  leaving  the  hut,  he  would 
willingly  have  repossessed  himself  of  his  money  or  papers 
at  least ;  but  this  she  prohibited  in  the  most  peremptory  man- 
ner. It  immediately  occurred  to  him  that  the  suspicion  of 
having  removed  anything,  of  which  he  might  repossess  him- 
self, would  fall  upon  this  woman,  by  whom,  in  all  probability, 
his  life  had  been  saved.  He  therefore  immediately  desisted 
from  his  attempt,  contenting  himself  with  seizing  a  cutlass, 
which  one  of  the  rufifians  had  flung  aside  among  the  straw. 
On  his  feet  and  possessed  of  this  weapon,  he  already  found 
himself  half  delivered  from  the  dangers  which  beset  him. 
Still,  however,  he  felt  stiffened  and  cramped,  both  with  the 
cold  and  by  the  constrained  and  unaltered  position  which  he 
had  occupied  all  night.  But  as  he  followed  the  gipsy  from 
the  door  of  the  hut,  the  fresh  air  of  the  morning  and  the 
action  of  walking,  restored  circulation  and  activity  to  his 
benumbed  limbs. 

The  pale  light  of  a  winter's  morning  was  rendered  more 
clear  by  the  snow,  which  was  lying  all  around  crisped  by 
the  influence  of  a  severe  frost.  Brown  cast  a  hasty  glance 
at  the  landscape  around  him,  that  he  might  be  able  again  to 
know  the  spot.  The  little  tower,  of  which  only  a  single  vault 
remained  forming  the  dismal  apartment  in  which  he  had 
spent  this  remarkable  night,  was  perched  on  the  very  point 
of  a  projecting  rock  overhanging  the  rivulet.  It  was  acces- 
sible only  on  one  side,  and  that  from  the  ravine  or  glen  be- 
low. On  the  other  three  sides  the  bank  was  precipitous,  so 
that  Brown  had  on  the  preceding  evening  escaped  more 
dangers  than  one;  for  if  he  had  attempted  to  go  round  the 
building,  which  was  once  his  purpose,  he  must  have  been 
dashed  to  pieces.  The  dell  was  so  narrow,  that  the  trees  met 
in  some  places  from  the  opposite  sides.  They  were  now 
loaded  with  snow  instead  of  leaves,  and  thus  formed  a  sort 
of  frozen  canopy  over  the  rivulet  beneath,  which  was  marked 
by  its  darker  colour  as  it  soaked  its  way  obscurely  through 
wreaths  of  snow.  In  one  place  where  the  glen  was  a  little 
wider,  leaving  a  small  piece  of  flat  ground  between  the  rivulet 
and  the  bank,  were  situated  the  ruins  of  the  hamlet  in  which 
Brown  had  been  involved  on  the  preceding  evening.  The 
ruined  gables,  the  insides  of  which  were  japanned  with  turf- 


GUY    MANXERIXG  217 

smoke,  looked  yet  blacker,  contrasted  with  the  patches  of 
snow  which  had  been  driven  against  them  by  the  wind  and 
with  the  drifts  which  lay  around  them. 

Upon  this  wintry  and  dismal  scene.  Brown  could  only 
at  present  cast  a  very  hasty  glance:  for  his  guide,  after 
pausing  an  instant,  as  if  to  permit  him  to  indulge  his  curi- 
osity, strode  hastily  before  him  down  the  path  which  led 
into  the  glen.  He  observed,  with  some  feelings  of  suspicion, 
that  she  chose  a  track  already  marked  by  several  feet,  which 
he  could  only  suppose  were  those  of  the  depredators  who  had 
spent  the  night  in  the  vault.  A  moment's  recollection,  how- 
ever, put  his  suspicions  to  rest.  It  was  not  to  be  thought 
that  the  woman,  who  might  have  delivered  him  up  to  her  gang 
when  in  a  state  totally  defenceless,  would  have  suspended 
her  supposed  treachery  until  he  was  armed  and  in  the  open 
air,  and  had  so  many  better  chances  of  defense  or  escape. 
He  therefore  followed  his  guide  in  confidence  and  silence. 
They  crossed  the  small  brook  at  the  same  place  where 
it  previously  had  been  passed  by  those  who  had  gone 
before. 

The  footmarks  then  proceeded  through  the  ruined  village, 
and  from  thence  down  the  glen,  which  again  narrowed  to  a 
ravine  after  the  small  opening  in  which  they  were  situated. 
But  the  gipsy  no  longer  followed  the  same  track ; — she  turned 
aside,  and  led  the  way,  by  a  very  rugged  and  uneven  path, 
up  the  bank  which  overhung  the  village.  Although  the 
snow  in  many  places  hid  the  pathway,  and  rendered  the  foot- 
ing uncertain  and  unsafe.  Meg  proceeded  with  a  firm  and 
determined  step,  which  indicated  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  ground  he  traversed.  At  length  they  gained  the  top 
of  the  bank,  though  by  a  passage  so  steep  and  intricate,  that 
Brown,  though  convinced  it  was  the  same  by  which  he  had 
descended  on  the  night  before,  was  not  a  little  surprised  how 
he  had  accomplished  the  task  without  breaking  his  neck. 
Above,  the  country  opened  wide  and  unenclosed  for  about  a 
mile  or  two  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  were  thick 
plantations  of  considerable  extent. 

Meg,  however,  still  led  the  way  along  the  bank  of  the 
ravine  out  of  which  they  had  ascended,  until  she  heard 
beneath  the  murmur  of  voices.     She  then  pointed  to  a  deep 


218  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

plantation  of  trees  at  some  distance.— 'The  road  to  Kippie- 
tringan,'  she  said,  'is  on  the  other  side  of  these  enclosures.— 
Make  the  speed  ye  can ;  there's  mair  rests  on  your  life  than  1 

other  folk's.— But  you  have  lost  all— stay.'     She  fumbled  in  1 

an  immense  pocket,  from  which  she  produced  a  greasy 
purse. — 'Many's  the  azvmons  your  house  has  gi'en  Meg  and 
hers — and  she  has  lived  to  pay  it  back  in  a  small  degree;'— 
and  she  placed  the  purse  in  his  hand. 

'The  woman  is  insane,'  thought  Brown;  but  it  was  no 
time  to  debate  the  point,  for  the  sounds  he  heard  in  the 
ravine  below  probably  proceeded  from  the  banditti.  'How 
shall  I  repay  this  money,'  he  said,  'or  how  acknowledge  the 
kindness  you  have  done  me  ?' 

'I  hac  twa  boons  to  crave,'  answered  the  sibyl,  speaking 
low  and  hastily:  'one,  that  you  will  never  speak  of  what 
you  have  seen  this  night;  the  other,  that  you  will  not 
leave  this  country  till  you  see  me  again, — and  that  you  leave 
word  at  the  'Gordon  Arms'  where  you  are  to  be  heard  of; 
and  when  I  next  call  for  you, — be  it  in  church  or  market, 
at  wedding  or  at  burial,  Sunday  or  Saturday,  meal-time  or 
fasting, — that  ye  leave  everything  else  and  come  with  me.' 

'Why,  that  will  do  you  little  good,  mother.' 

'But  'twill  do  yoursell  muckle,  and  that's  what  I'm  think- 
ing o'.  I  am  not  mad,  although  I  have  had  eneugh  to  make 
me  sae — I  am  not  mad.  not  doating,  nor  drunken — I  know 
what  I  am  asking,  and  I  know  it  has  been  the  will  of  God  to 
preserve  you  in  strange  dangers,  and  that  I  shall  be  the 
instrument  to  set  you  in  your  father's  seat  again. — Sae  give 
me  your  promise,  and  mind  that  you  owe  your  life  to  me  this 
blessed  night.' 

'There  's  wildness  in  her  manner,  certainly,'  thought 
Brown, — 'and  yet  it  is  more  like  the  wildness  of  energy  than 

of  madness. Well,  mother,  since  you  do  ask  so  useless  and 

trifling  a  favour,  you  have  my  promise.  It  will  at  least  give 
me  an  opportunity  to  repay  j'our  money  with  additions.  You 
are  an  uncommon  kind  of  creditor,  no  doubt,  but — ' 

'Away,  away,  th^^n  !'  said  she,  waving  her  hand.  'Think 
not  about  the  goud — it  's  a'  your  ain ;  but  remember  your 
promise,  and  do  not  dare  to  follow  me  or  look  after  me.' 
So  saying,  she  plunged  again  into  the  dell  and  descended  it 


GUY    MANNERING  219 

with  great  agility,  the  icicles  and  snow-wreaths  showering 
down  after  her  as  she  disappeared. 

Notwithstanding  her  prohibition,  Brown  endeavoured  to 
gain  some  point  of  the  bank  from  which  he  might,  unseen, 
gaze  down  into  the  glen ;  and  with  some  difficulty  ( for  it 
must  be  conceived  that  the  utmost  caution  was  necessary) 
he  succeeded.  The  spot  which  he  attained  for  this  purpose 
was  the  point  of  a  projecting  rock,  which  rose  precipitously 
from  among  the  trees.  By  kneeling  down  among  the  snow, 
and  stretching  his  head  cautiously  forward,  he  could  observe 
what  was  going  on  in  the  bottom  of  the  dell.  He  saw.  as  he 
expected,  his  companions  of  the  last  night,  now  joined  by 
two  or  three  others.  They  had  cleared  away  the  snow  from 
the  foot  of  the  rock,  and  dug  a  deep  pit,  which  was  designed 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  a  grave.  Around  this  they  now 
stood,  and  lowered  into  it  something  wrapped  in  a  naval 
cloak,  which  Brown  instantly  concluded  to  be  the  dead  body 
of  the  man  he  had  seen  expire.  They  then  stood  silent  for 
half  a  minute,  as  if  under  some  touch  of  feeling  for  the 
loss  of  their  companion.  But  if  they  experienced  such,  they 
did  not  long  remain  under  its  influence,  for  all  hands  went 
presently  to  work  to  fill  up  the  grave;  and  Brown,  perceiv- 
ing that  the  task  would  be  soon  ended,  thought  it  best  to 
take  the  gipsy-woman's  hint  and  walk  as  fast  as  possible 
until  he  should  gain  the  shelter  of  the  plantation. 

Having  arrived  under  cover  of  the  trees,  his  first  thought 
was  of  the  gipsy's  purse.  He  had  accepted  it  without  hesi- 
tation, though  with  something  like  a  feeling  of  degradation 
arising  from  the  character  of  the  person  by  whom  he  was 
thus  accommodated.  But  it  relieved  him  from  a  serious, 
though  temporary,  embarrassment.  Plis  money,  excepting  a 
very  few  shillings,  was  in  his  portmanteau,  and  that  was  in 
possession  of  Meg's  friends.  Some  time  was  necessary  to 
write  to  his  agent,  or  even  to  apply  to  his  good  host  at 
Charlies-hope,  who  would  gladly  have  supplied  him.  In  the 
meantime,  he  resolved  to  avail  himself  of  Megs  subsidy, 
confident  that  he  should  have  a  speedy  opportunity  of  re- 
placing it  with  a  handsome  gratuity.  Tt  can  be  but  a  trifling 
sum,'  he  said  to  himself,  'and  I  dare  say  the  good  lady  may 
have  a  share  of  my  banknotes  to  make  amends. 


220  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

With  these  reflections  he  opened  the  leathern  purse,  ex- 
pecting to  find  at  most  three  or  four  guineas.  But  how 
much  was  he  surprised  to  discover  that  it  contained,  besides 
a  considerable  quantity  of  gold  pieces  of  different  coinages 
and  various  countries,  the  joint  amount  of  which  could  not 
be  short  of  a  hundred  pounds,  several  valuable  rings  and 
ornaments  set  with  jewels,  and,  as  appeared  from  the  slight 
inspection  he  had  time  to  give  them,  of  very  considerable 
value. 

Brown  was  equally  astonished  and  embarrassed  by  the 
circumstances  in  which  he  found  himself,  possessed,  as  he 
now  appeared  to  be,  of  property  to  a  much  greater  amount 
than  his  own.  but  which  had  been  obtained  in  all  probability 
by  the  same  nefarious  means  through  which  he  had  himself 
been  plundered.  His  first  thought  was  to  inquire  after  the 
nearest  justice  of  peace,  and  to  place  in  his  hands  the 
treasure  of  which  he  had  thus  unexpectedly  become  the 
depositary,  telling,  at  the  same  time,  his  own  remarkable 
story.  But  a  moment's  consideration  brought  several  objec- 
tions to  this  mode  of  procedure.  In  the  first  place,  by 
observing  this  course,  he  should  break  his  promise  of  silence, 
and  might  probably  by  that  means  involve  the  safety,  per- 
haps the  life,  of  this  woman,  who  had  risked  her  own  to 
preserve  his,  and  who  had  voluntarily  endowed  him  with 
this  treasure — a  generosity  which  might  thus  become  the 
means  of  her  ruin.  This  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  Be- 
sides, he  was  a  stranger,  and,  for  a  time  at  least,  unprovided 
with  means  of  establishing  his  own  character  and  credit  to 
the  satisfaction  of  a  stupid  or  obstinate  country  magistrate. 
'I  will  think  over  the  matter  more  maturely,'  he  said ;  'per- 
haps there  may  be  a  regiment  quartered  at  the  country-town, 
in  which  case  my  knowledge  of  the  service,  and  acquaintance 
with  many  officers  of  the  army,  cannot  fail  to  establish  my 
situation  and  character  by  evidence  which  a  civil  judge 
could  not  sufficiently  estimate.  And  then  I  shall  have  the 
commanding-officer's  assistance  in  managing  matters  so  as  to 
screen  this  unhappy  mad-woman  whose  mistake  or  prejudice 
has  been  so  fortunate  for  me.  A  civil  magistrate  might  think 
himself  obliged  to  send  out  warrants  for  her  at  once,  and 
the  consequence,  in  case  of  her  being  taken,  is  pretty  evident. 


GUY    MANNERING  221 

No,  she  has  been  upon  honour  with  me  if  she  were  the  devil, 
and  I  will  be  equally  upon  honour  with  her — she  shall  have 
the  privilege  of  a  court-martial,  where  the  point  of  honour 
can  qualify  strict  law.  Besides,  I  may  see  her  at  this  place, 
Kipple — Couple — what  did  she  call  it !  and  then  I  can  make 
restitution  to  her,  and  e'en  let  the  law  claim  its  own  when  it 
can  secure  her.  In  the  meanwhile,  however,  I  cut  rather  an 
awkward  figure  for  one  who  has  the  honour  to  bear  his 
Majesty's  commission,  being  little  better  than  the  receiver  of 
stolen  goods,' 

With  these  reflections,  Brown  took  from  the  gipsy's 
treasure  three  or  four  guineas,  for  the  purpose  of  his  im- 
mediate expenses,  and  tying  up  the  rest  in  the  purse  which 
contained  them,  resolved  not  again  to  open  it  until  he  could 
either  restore  it  to  her  by  whom  it  was  given,  or  put  it  into 
the  hands  of  some  public  functionary.  He  next  thought  of 
the  cutlass,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  leave  it  in  the  planta- 
tion. But  when  he  considered  the  risk  of  meeting  with  these 
ruffians,  he  could  not  resolve  on  parting  with  his  arms.  His 
walking-dress,  though  plain,  had  so  much  of  a  military  char- 
acter as  suited  not  amiss  with  his  having  such  a  weapon. 
Besides,  though  the  custom  of  wearing  swords  by  persons  out 
of  uniform  had  been  gradually  becoming  antiquated,  it  was 
not  yet  so  totally  forgotten  as  to  occasion  any  particular 
remark  towards  those  who  chose  to  adhere  to  it.  Retaining, 
therefore,  his  weapon  of  defence,  and  placing  the  purse  of 
the  gipsy  in  a  private  pocket,  our  traveller  strode  gallantly 
on  through  the  wood  in  search  of  the  promised  high-road. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

All   school-days'    friendship,    childhood    innocence? 

We,  Hermia,  like  two  artificial  gods, 

Have  with  our  needles  created  both  one  flower, 

Both   on   one  sampler,   sitting  on   one  cushion, 

Both  warbling  of  one  song,  both  in  one  key, 

As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices,  and  minds, 

Had  been  incorporate. 

A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 

JULIA  MANNERING  TO   MATILDA   MARCHMONT 

'~W  W~OW  can  you  upbraid  me,  my  dearest  Matilda,  with  abatement 
I — I  in  friendship,  or  fluctuation  in  affection  ?  Is  it  possible  for 
1  1  me  to  forget  that  you  are  the  chosen  of  my  heart,  in  whose 
faithful  bosom  I  have  deposited  every  feeling  which  your 
poor  Julia  dares  to  acknowledge  to  herself?  And  you  do  me  equal 
injustice  in  upbraiding  me-  with  exchanging  your  friendship  for  that 
of  Lucy  Bertram.  I  assure  you  she  has  not  the  materials  I  must  seek 
for  in  a  bosom  confidante.  She  is  a  charming  girl,  to  be  sure,  and 
I  like  her  very  much,  and  I  confess  our  forenoon  and  evening 
engagement  have  left  me  less  time  for  the  exercise  of  my  pen  than 
our  proposed  regularity  of  correspondence  demands.  But  she  is 
totally  devoid  of  elegant  accomplishments,  excepting  the  knowledge  of 
French  and  Italian,  which  she  acquired  from  the  most  grotesque 
monster  you  ever  beheld,  whom  my  father  has  engaged  as  a  kind 
of  librarian,  and  whom  he  patronizes  I  believe,  to  show  his  defiance 
of  the  world's  opinion.  Colonel  Mannering  seems  to  have  formed 
a  determination  that  nothing  shall  be  considered  as  ridiculous  so 
long  as  it  appertains  to  or  is  connected  with  him.  I  remember  in 
India  he  had  picked  up  somewhere  a  little  mongrel  cur,  with  bandy 
legs,  a  long  back,  and  huge  flapping  ears.  Of  this  uncouth  creature 
he  chose  to  make  a  favourite  in  despite  of  all  taste  and  opinion ;  and 
I  remember  one  instance  which  he  alleged,  of  what  he  called  Brown's 
petulance,  was,  that  he  had  criticized  severely  the  crooked  legs  and 
drooping  ears  of  Bingo.  On  my  word,  Matilda,  I  believe  he  nurses 
his  high  opinion  of  this  most  awkward  of  all  pedants  upon  a  similar 
principle.  He  seats  the  creature  at  table,  where  he  pronounces  a 
grace  that  sounds  like  the  scream  of  the  man  in  the  square  that 
used  to  cry  mackerel, — flings  his  meat  down  his  throat  by  shovelfuls, 
like  a  dustman  loading  his  cart,  and  apparently  without  the  most 
distant  perception  of  what  he  is  swallowing, — then  bleats  forth  an- 
other unnatural  set  of  tones,  by  way  of  returning  thanks,  stalks  out 
of  the  room,  and  immerses  himself  among  a  parcel  of  huge  worm- 

292 


GUY    MANNERING  223 

eaten  folios  that  are  as  uncouth  as  himself !  I  could  endure  the 
creature  well  enough,  had  I  anybody  to  laugh  at  him  along  with  me  ; 
but  Lucy  Bertram,  if  I  but  verge  on  the  border  of  a  jest  affecting 
this  same  Mr.  Sampson  (such  is  the  horrid  man's  horrid  name), 
looks  so  piteous  that  it  deprives  me  of  all  spirit  to  proceed,  and  my 
father  knits  his  brow,  flashes  fire  from  his  eye.  bites  his  lip,  and  says 
something  that  is  extremely  rude  and  uncomfortable  to  my  feelings. 

'It  was  not  of  this  creature,  however,  that  I  meant  to  speak  to 
you — only  that,  being  a  good  scholar  in  the  modern,  as  well  as  the 
ancient  languages,  he  has  contrived  to  make  Lucy  Bertram  mistress 
of  the  former,  and  she  has  only,  I  believe,  to  thank  her  own  good 
sense  of  obstinacy,  that  the  Greek,  Latin,  (and  Hebrew,  for  aught 
I  know)  were  not  added  to  her  acquisitions.  And  thus  she  really 
has  a  great  fund  of  information,  and  I  assure  you  I  am  daily  sur- 
prised at  the  power  which  she  seems  to  possess  of  amusing  herself 
by  recalling  and  arranging  the  subjects  of  her  former  reading.  We 
read  together  every  morning,  and  I  begin  to  like  Italian  much  better 
than  when  we  were  teased  by  that  conceited  animal  Cicipici ; — this 
is  the  way  to  spell  his  name,  and  not  Chichipichi — you  see  I  grow 
a  connoisseur. 

'But  perhaps  I  like  Miss  Bertram  more  for  the  accomplishments 
she  wants,  than  for  the  knowledge  she  possesses.  She  knows 
nothing  of  music  whatever,  and  no  more  of  dancing  than  is  here 
common  to  the  meanest  peasants — who,  by  the  way,  dance  with  great 
zeal  and  spirit.  So  that  I  am  instructor  in  my  turn,  and  she  takes 
with  great  gratitude  lessons  from  me  upon  the  harpsichord,  and  I 
have  even  taught  her  some  of  La  Pique's  steps,  and  you  know  he 
thought  me  a  promising  scholar. 

'In  the  evening,  papa  often  reads,  and  I  assure  you  he  is  the  best 
reader  of  poetry  you  ever  heard — not  like  that  actor,  who  made  a 
kind  of  jumble  between  reading  and  acting,  staring,  and  bending  his 
brow,  and  twisting  his  face,  and  gesticulating  as  if  he  were  on  the 
stage  and  dressed  out  in  all  his  costume.  My  father's  manner  is 
quite  different — it  is  the  reading  of  a  gentleman,  who  produces  effect 
by  feeling,  taste,  and  inflection  of  voice,  not  by  action  or  mummery. 
Lucy  Bertram  rides  remarkably  well,  and  I  can  now  accompany  her 
on  horseback,  having  become  emboldened  by  example.  We  walk 
also  a  good  deal  in  spite  of  the  cold.  So,  upon  the  whole.  I  have 
not  quite  so  much  time  for  writing  as  I  used  to  have. 

'Besides,  my  love,  I  must  really  use  the  apology  of  all  stupid 
correspondents,  that  I  have  nothing  to  say.  My  hopes,  my  fears, 
my  anxieties  about  Brown,  are  of  a  less  interesting  cast,  since  I 
know  that  he  is  at  liberty  and  in  health.  Besides.  I  must  own,  I 
think  that  by  this  time  the  gentleman  might  have  given  me  some 
intimation  what  he  was  doing.  Our  intercourse  may  be  an  imprudent 
one,  but  it  is  not  very  complimentary  to  me,  that  Mr.  Vanbeest 
Brown  should  be  the  first  to  discover  that  such  is  the  case,  and  to 
break  off  in  consequence.  I  can  promise  him  that  we  might  not 
differ  much  in  opinion  should  that  happen  to  be  his,  for  I  have 
sometimes  thought  I  have  behaved  extremely  foolishly  in  that  matter. 


234  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Yet  I  have  so  good  an  opinion  of  poor  Brown,  that  I  cannot  but 
think  there  is  something  extraordinary  in  his  silence. 

'To  return  to  Lucy  Bertram. — No,  my  dearest  Matilda,  she  can 
never,  never  rival  you  in  my  regard,  so  that  all  your  affectionate 
jealousy  on  that  account  is  without  foundation.  She  is,  to  be  sure, 
a  very  pretty,  a  very  sensible,  a  very  affectionate  girl,  and  I  think 
there  are  few  persons  to  whose  consolatory  friendship  I  could  have 
recourse  more  freely  in  what  are  called  the  real  evils  of  life.  But 
then  these  so  seldom  come  in  one's  way,  and  one  wants  a  friend  who 
will  sympathize  with  distresses  of  sentiment,  as  well  as  with  actual 
misfortune.  Heaven  knows,  and  you  know,  my  dearest  Matilda,  that 
these  diseases  of  the  heart  require  the  balm  of  sympathy  and  affection, 
as  much  as  the  evils  of  a  more  obvious  and  determinate  character. 
Now  Lucy  Bertram  has  nothing  of  this  kindly  sympathy — nothing  at 
all,  my  dearest  Matilda.  Were  I  sick  of  a  fever,  she  would  sit  up 
night  after  night  to  nurse  me  with  the  most  unrepining  patience ; 
but  with  the  fever  of  the  heart,  which  my  Matilda  has  soothed  so 
often,  she  has  no  more  sympathy  than  her  old  tutor.  And  yet  what 
provokes  me  is,  that  the  demure  monkey  actually  has  a  lover  of  her 
own,  and  that  their  mutual  affection  (for  mutual  I  take  it  to  be) 
has  a  great  deal  of  complicated  and  romantic  interest.  She  was 
once,  you  must  know,  a  great  heiress,  but  was  ruined  by  the  prodi- 
gality of  her  father,  and  the  villany  of  a  horrid  man  in  whom  he 
confided.  And  one  of  the  handsomest  young  gentlemen  in  the  country 
is  attached  to  her ;  but  as  he  is  heir  to  a  great  estate,  she  discourages 
his  addresses  on  account  of  the  disproportion  of  their  fortune. 

'But  with  all  this  moderation,  and  self-denial,  and  modesty,  and 
so  forth,  Lucy  is  a  sly  girl — I  am  sure  she  loves  young  Hazlewood, 
and  I  am  sure  he  has  some  guess  of  that,  and  would  probably  bring 
her  to  acknowledge  it  too,  if  my  father  or  she  would  allow  him  an 
opportunity.  But  you  must  know  the  Colonel  is  always  himself  in 
the  way  to  pay  Miss  Bertram  those  attentions  which  aft'ord  the  best 
indirect  opportunities  for  a  young  gentleman  in  Hazlewood's  sit- 
uation. I  would  have  my  good  papa  take  care  that  he  does  not 
himself  pay  the  usual  penalty  of  meddling  folks.  I  assure  you,  if 
I  were  Hazlewood,  I  should  look  on  his  compliments,  his  bowings, 
his  cloakings,  his  shawlings,  and  his  handings,  with  some  little 
suspicion — and  truly  I  think  Hazlewood  does  so  too  at  some  odd 
times.  Then  imagine  what  a  silly  figure  your  poor  Julia  makes  on 
such  occasions !  Here  is  my  father  making  the  agreeable  to  my 
friend  ;  there  is  young  Hazlewood  watching  every  word  of  her  lips, 
and  every  motion  of  her  eye  :  and  I  have  not  the  poor  satisfaction  of 
interesting  a  human  being — not  even  the  exotic  monster  of  a  parson, 
for  even  he  sits  with  his  mouth  open,  and  his  huge  round  goggling 
eyes  fixed  like  those  of  a  statue,  admiring  Mess  Baartram  ! 

All  this  makes  me  sometimes  a  little  nervous,  and  sometimes  a 
little  mischievous.  I  was  so  provoked  at  my  father  and  the  lovers 
the  other  day  for  turning  me  completely  out  of  their  thoughts  and 
society,  that  I  began  an  attack  upon  Hazlewood,  from  which  it  was 
impossible   for   him,    in   common   civility,   to   escape.     He   insensibly 


GUY    MANNERING  225 

became  warm  in  his  defence — I  assure  you,  Matilda,  he  is  a  very 
clever,  as  well  as  a  very  handsome  young  man,  and  I  don't  think  I 
ever  remember  having  seen  him  to  the  same  advantage — when,  be- 
hold, in  the  midst  of  our  lively  conversation,  a  very  soft  sigh  from 
Miss  Lucy  reached  my  not  ungratificd  ears.  I  was  greatly  too  gen- 
erous to  prosecute  my  victory  any  further,  even  if  I  had  not  been 
afraid  of  papa.  Luckily  for  me,  he  had  at  that  moment  got  into 
a  long  description  of  the  peculiar  notions  and  manners  of  a  certain 
tribe  of  Indians,  who  live  far  up  the  country,  and  was  illustrating 
them  by  making  drawings  on  Miss  Bertram's  work-patterns,  three  of 
which  he  utterly  damaged,  by  introducing  among  the  intricacies  of 
the  pattern  his  specimens  of  Oriental  costume.  But  I  believe  she 
thought  as  little  of  her  own  gown  at  the  moment  as  of  the  India 
turbands  and  cummerbands.  However,  it  was  quite  as  well  for  me 
that  he  did  not  see  all  the  merit  of  my  little  manoeuvre,  for  he  is  as 
sharp-sighted  as  a  hawk,  and  a  sworn  enemy  to  the  slightest  shade 
of   coquetry. 

'Well  Matilda, — Hazlewood  heard  this  same  half-audible  sigh,  and 
instantly  repented  his  temporary  attentions  to  such  an  unworthy 
object  as  your  Julia,  and,  with  a  very  comical  expression  of  con- 
sciousness, drev/  near  to  Lucy's  work-table.  He  made  some  trifling 
observation,  and  her  reply  was  one  in  which  nothing  but  an  ear  as 
acute  as  that  of  a  lover,  or  a  curious  observer  like  myself,  could  have 
distinguished  anything  more  cold  and  dry  than  usual.  But  it  con- 
veyed reproof  to  the  self-accusing  hero,  and  he  stood  abashed  accord- 
ingly. "You  will  admit  that  I  was  called  upon  in  generosity  to  act 
as  mediator.  So  I  mingled  in  the  conversation,  in  the  quiet  tone  of 
an  unobserving  and  uninterested  third  party,  led  them  into  their 
former  habits  of  easy  chat.  and.  after  having  served  awhile  as  the 
channel  of  communication  through  which  they  chose  to  address 
each  other,  set  them  down  to  a  pensive  game  at  chess,  and  very 
dutifully  went  to  tease  papa,  who  was  still  busied  with  his  drawings. 
The  chess-players,  you  must  observe,  were  placed  near  the  chimney. 
beside  a  little  work-table,  which  held  the  board  and  men — the  Colonel 
at  some  distance,  with  lights  upon  a  library  table — for  it  is  a  large 
old-fashioned  room,  with  several  recesses,  and  hung  with  grim 
tapestry,  representing  what  it  might  have  puzzled  the  artist  himself 
to  explain. 

'"Is  chess  a  very  interesting  game,  papa?" 

'  "I  am  told  so,"  without  honouring  me  much  of  his  notice. 

'  "I  should  think  so,  from  the  attention  Mr.  Hazlewood  and  Lucy 
are  bestowing  on  it." 

'He  raised  his  head  hastily,  and  held  his  pencil  suspended  for  an 
instant.  Apparently  he  saw  nothing  that  excited  his  sur.pi- 
cions.  for  he  was  resuming  the  folds  of  a  Mahratta's  turban  in 
tranquility  when  I  interrupted  him  with — "How  old  is  Miss  Bertram, 
sir?" 

'  "How   should    I    know.    Miss  ?   about   your   own   age,    I   suppose." 

"•Older,  I  should  think,  sir.  You  are  always  telling  he  how 
much  more  decorously  she  goes  through  all  the  honours  of  the  tea- 


226  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

table. — Lord,  papa,  what  if  you  should  give  her  a  right  to  preside 
once  and  forever  !" 

'  "Julia,  my  dear,"  returned  papa,  "you  are  either  a  fool  outright, 
or  you  are  more  disposed  to  make  mischief  than  I  have  yet  believed 
you." 

'  "Oh,  my  dear  sir  !  put  your  best  construction  upon  it — I  would 
not  be  thought  a  fool  for  all  the  world.' 

'"Then  why  do  you  talk  like  one?"  said  my  father. 

'  "Lord,  sir,  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  so  foolish  in  what  I  said 
just  now.  Everybody  knows  you  are  a  very  handsome  man"  (a 
smile  was  just  visible),  "that  is,  for  your  time  of  life"  (the  dawn 
was  overcast),  "which  is  far  from  being  advanced,  and  I  am  sure 
I  don't  know  why  you  should  not  please  yourself,  if  you  have  a  mind. 
I  am  sensible  I  am  but  a  thoughtless  girl,  and  if  a  graver  companion 
could  render  you  more  happy " 

'There  was  a  mixture  of  displeasure  and  grave  affection  in  the 
manner  in  which  my  father  took  my  hand,  that  was  a  severe  reproof 
to  me  for  trifling  with  his  feelings.  "Julia,"  he  said,  "I  bear  with 
much  of  your  petulance,  because  I  think  I  have  in  some  degree 
deserved  it,  by  neglecting  to  superintend  your  education  sufficiently 
closely.  Yet  I  would  not  have  you  give  it  the  rein  upon  a  subject 
so  delicate.  If  you  do  not  respect  the  feelings  of  your  surviving 
parent  towards  the  memory  of  her  whom  you  have  lost,  attend  at 
least  to  the  sacred  claims  of  misfortune;  and  observe,  that  the 
slightest  hint  of  such  a  jest  reaching  Miss  Bertram's  ears,  would  at 
once  induce  her  to  renounce  her  present  asylum,  and  go  forth, 
without  a  protector,  into  a  world  she  has  already  felt  so  unfriendly." 

'What  could  I  say  to  this,  Matilda? — I  only  cried  heartily,  begged 
pardon,  and  promised  to  be  a  good  girl  in  future.  And  so  here  am 
I  neutralized  again ;  for  I  cannot,  in  honour  or  common  good  nature, 
tease  poor  Lucy  by  interfering  with  Hazlewood,  although  she  has  so 
little  confidence  in  me ;  and  neither  can  L  after  this  grave  appeal, 
venture  again  upon  such  delicate  ground  with  papa.  So  I  burn 
little  rolls  of  paper,  and  sketch  Turks'  heads  upon  visiting  cards 
with  the  blackened  end — I  assure  you,  I  succeeded  in  making  a 
superb  Hyder-Ally  last  night — and  I  jingle  on  my  unfortunate 
harpsichord,  and  begin  at  the  end  of  a  grave  book  and  read  it 
backward. — After  all,  I  begin  to  be  very  much  vexed  about  Brown's 
silence.  Had  he  been  obliged  to  leave  the  country,  I  am  sure  he 
would  at  least  have  written  to  me. — Is  it  possible  that  my  father  can 
have  intercepted  his  letters?  But  no — that  is  contrary  to  all  his 
principles — I  don't  think  he  would  open  a  letter  addressed  to  me 
to-night,  to  prevent  my  jumping  out  of  window  to-morrow. — What 
an  expression  I  have  suffered  to  escape  my  pen !  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  it,  even  to  you.  Matilda,  and  used  in  jest.  But  I  need 
not  take  much  merit  for  acting  as  I  ought  to  do.  This  same  Mr. 
Vanbeest  Brown  is  by  no  means  so  very  ardent  a  lover  as  to  hurry 
the  object  of  his  attachment  into  such  inconsiderate  steps.  He 
gives  one  full  time  to  reflect,  that  must  be  admitted.  However,  I 
will  not  blame  him  unheard,  nor  permit  myself  to  doubt  the  manly 


GUY    MANNER  TXG  227 

firmness  of  a  character  which  I  have  so  often  extolled  to  you.  Were 
he  capable  of  doubt,  of  fear,  of  the  shadow  of  change,  I  should  have 
little  to  regret. 

'And  why,  you  will  say,  when  I  expect  such  steady  and  unalterable 
constancy  from  a  lover,  why  should  I  be  anxious  about  what  Hazle- 
wood  does,  or  to  whom  he  offers  his  attentions? — I  ask  myself  the 
question  a  hundred  times  a  day,  and  it  only  receives  the  very  silly 
answer — that  one  does  not  like  to  be  neglected,  though  one  would 
not  encourage  a  serious  infidelity. 

'1  write  all  these  trifles,  because  you  say  that  they  amuse  you, 
and  yet  I  wonder  how  they  should.  I  remember,  in  our  stolen 
voyages  to  the  world  of  fiction,  you  always  admired  the  grand  and 
the  romantic — tales  of  knights,  dwarfs,  giants,  and  distressed  damsels, 
soothsayers,  visions,  beckoning  ghosts,  and  bloody  hands, — whereas  I 
was  partial  to  the  involved  intrigues  of  private  life,  or  at  furthest, 
to  so  much  only  of  the  supernatural  as  is  conferred  by  the  agency 
of  an  Eastern  genie  or  a  beneficent  fairy.  You  would  have  loved  to 
shape  your  course  of  life  over  the  broad  ocean,  with  its  dead  calms 
and  howling  tempests,  its  tornadoes  and  its  billows  mountain-high, — 
whereas  I  should  like  to  trim  my  little  pinnace  to  a  brisk  breeze  in 
some  inland  lake  or  tranquil  bay,  where  there  was  just  difficulty  of 
navigation  sufficient  to  give  interest  and  to  require  skill,  without  any 
sensible  degree  of  danger.  So  that,  upon  the  whole,  Matilda,  I  think 
you  should  have  had  my  father,  with  his  pride  of  arms  and  of  an- 
cestry, his  chivalrous  point  of  honour,  his  high  talents,  and  his 
abstruse  and  mystic  studies ; — you  should  have  had  Lucy  Bertram, 
too,  for  your  friend,  whose  fathers,  with  names  which  alike  defy 
memory  and  orthography,  ruled  over  this  romantic  country,  and 
whose  birth  took  place,  as  I  have  been  indistinctly  informed,  under 
circumstances  of  deep  and  peculiar  interest ; — you  should  have  had, 
too,  our  Scottish  residence,  surrounded  by  mountains,  and  our  lonely 
walks  to  haunted  ruins.  And  I  should  have  had,  in  exchange,  the 
lawns  and  shrubs  and  green-houses,  and  conservatories,  of  Pine- 
park,  with  your  good,  quiet,  indulgent  aunt,  her  chapel  in  the 
morning,  her  nap  after  dinner,  her  hand  at  whist  in  the  evening, 
not  forgetting  her  fat  coach-horses  and  fatter  coachman.  Take 
notice,  however,  that  Brown  is  not  included  in  this  proposed  barter 
of  mine: — his  good  humour,  lively  conversation,  and  open  gallantry, 
suit  my  plan  of  life,  as  well  as  his  athletic  form,  handsome  features, 
and  high  spirit,  would  accord  with  a  character  of  chivalrj'.  So,  as 
we  cannot  change  altogether  out  and  out,  I  think  we  must  e'en  abide 
as  we  are.' 


CHAPTER    XXX 

Renounce  your  defiance  ;  if  you  parley  so  roughly,  I'll  barricado  my 
gates  against  you. — Do  you  see  yon  bay  window?  Storm, — I  care  not, 
serving  the  good  Duke  of  Norfolk. 

Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton. 

JULIA  MANNERING  TO  MATILDA  MARCHMONT 

I  RISE  from  a  sick-bed,  my  dearest  Matilda,  to  communicate 
the  strange  and  frightful  scenes  which  have  just  passed.  Alas, 
how  little  we  ought  to  jest  with  futurity  !  I  closed  my  letter 
to  you  in  high  spirits,  with  some  flippant  remarks  on  your 
taste  for  the  romantic  and  extraordinary  in  fictitious  narrative.  How 
little  I  expected  to  have  had  such  events  to  record  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days !  And  to  witness  scenes  of  terror,  or  to  contemplate 
them  in  description,  is  as  different,  my  dearest  Matilda,  as  to  bend 
over  the  brink  of  a  precipice  holding  by  the  frail  tenure  of  a  half- 
rooted  shrub,  or  to  admire  the  same  precipice  as  represented  in  the 
landscape  of  Salvator.     But  I  will  not  anticipate  my  narrative. 

'The  first  part  of  my  story  is  frightful  enough,  though  it  had 
nothing  to  interest  my  feelings.  You  must  know  that  this  country 
is  particularly  favourable  to  the  commerce  of  a  set  of  desperate  men 
from  the  Isle  of  Man,  which  is  nearly  opposite.  These  smuggle'rs 
are  numerous,  resolute,  and  formidable,  and  have  at  different  times 
become  the  dread  of  the  neighbourhood  when  any  one  has  interfered 
with  their  contraband  trade.  The  local  magistrates,  from  timidity  or 
worse  motives,  have  become  shy  of  acting  against  them,  and  impunity 
has  rendered  them  equally  daring  and  desperate.  With  all  this,  my 
father,  a  stranger  in  the  land,  and  invested  with  no  official  authority, 
had,  one  would  think,  nothing  to  do.  But  it  must  be  owned,  that, 
as  he  himself  expresses  it,  he  was  born  when  Mars  was  lord  of  his 
ascendant,  and  that  strife  and  bloodshed  find  him  out  in  circumstances 
and  situations  the   most   retired  and  pacific. 

'About  eleven  o'clock  on  last  Tuesday  morning,  while  Hazlewood 
and  my  father  were  proposing  to  walk  to  a  little  lake  about  three 
miles'  distance,  for  the  purpose  of  shooting  wild  ducks,  and  while 
Lucy  and  I  were  busied  with  arranging  our  plan  of  work  and  study 
for  the  day,  we  were  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  advancing 
very  fast  up  the  avenue.  The  ground  was  hardened  by  a  severe 
frost,  which  made  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs  sound  yet  louder  and 
sharper.  In  a  moment,  two  or  three  men,  armed,  mounted,  and  each 
leading  a  spare  horse  loaded  with  packages,  appeared  on  the  lawn, 
and,   without   keeping  upon   the   road,   which   makes   a  small   sweep, 

228 


GUY    MAXNERTNG  239 

pushed  right  across  for  the  door  of  the  house.  Their  appearance 
was  in  the  utmost  degree  hurried  and  disordered,  and  they  frequently 
looked  back  like  men  who  apprehended  a  close  and  deadly  pursuit. 
My  father  and  Hazlewood  hurried  to  the  front  door  to  demand  who 
they  were,  and  what  was  their  business.  They  were  revenue  officers, 
they  stated,  who  had  seized  these  horses,  loaded  with  contraband 
articles,  at  a  place  about  three  miles  off.  But  the  smugglers  had  been 
reinforced,  and  were  now  pursuing  them  with  the  avowed  purpose  of 
recovering  the  goods,  and  putting  to  death  the  officers  who  had 
presumed  to  do  their  duty.  The  men  said  that  their  horses  being 
loaded,  and  the  pursuers  gaining  ground  upon  them,  they  had  fled 
to  Woodbourne,  conceiving  that  as  my  father  had  served  the  king, 
he  would  not  refuse  to  protect  the  servants  of  Government,  when 
threatened  to  be  murdered  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty. 

'My  father,  to  whom,  in  his  enthusiastic  feelings  of  military  loyalty, 
even  a  dog  would  be  of  importance  if  he  came  in  the  king's  name, 
gave  prompt  orders  for  securing  the  goods  in  the  hall,  arming  the 
servants,  and  defending  the  house  in  case  it  should  be  necessary. 
Hazlewood  seconded  him  with  great  spirit,  and  even  the  strange 
animal  they  call  Sampson  stalked  out  of  his  den,  and  seized  upon  a 
fowling-piece,  which  my  father  had  laid  aside,  to  take  what  they  call 
a  rifle-gun,  with  which  they  shoot  tigers,  &c.  in  the  East.  The  piece 
went  off  in  the  awkward  hands  of  the  poor  parson,  and  very  nearly 
shot  one  of  the  excisemen.  At  this  unexpected  and  involuntary 
explosion  of  his  weapon,  the  Dominie  (such  is  his  nickname)  ex- 
claimed, "Prodigious  !"  which  is  his  usual  ejaculation  when  aston- 
ished. But  no  power  could  force  the  man  to  part  with  his  discharged 
piece,  so  they  were  content  to  let  him  retain  it,  with  the  precaution 
of  trusting  him  with  no  ammunition.  This  (excepting  the  alarm 
occasioned  by  the  report)  escaped  my  notice  at  the  time,  you  may 
easily  believe;  but  in  talking  over  the  scene  afterwards,  Hazlewood 
made  us  very  merry  with  the  Dominie's  ignorant  but  zealous  valour. 

'When  my  father  had  got  everything  into  proper  order  for  defence, 
and  his  people  stationed  at  the  windows  with  their  fire-arms,  he 
wanted  to  order  us  out  of  danger — into  the  cellar,  I  believe — but  we 
could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  stir.  Though  terrified  to  death,  I 
have  so  much  of  his  own  spirit,  that  I  would  look  upon  the  peril 
which  threatens  us,  rather  than  hear  it  rage  around  me  without 
knowing  its  nature  or  its  progress.  Lucy,  looking  as  pale  as  a  marble 
statue  and  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  Hazlewood,  seemed  not  even  to 
hear  the  prayers  with  which  he  conjured  her  to  leave  the  front  of  the 
house.  But  in  truth,  unless  the  hall-door  should  be  forced  we  were 
in  little  danger — the  windows  being  almost  blocked  up  with  cushions 
and  pillows,  and,  what  the  Dominie  most  lamented,  with  folio 
volumes,  brought  hastily  from  the  library,  leaving  only  spaces  through 
which  the  defenders  might  fire  upon  the  assailants. 

'My  father  had  now  made  his  dispositions,  and  we  sat  in  breathless 
expectation  in  the  darkened  apartment,  the  men  remaining  all  silent 
upon  their  posts,  in  anxious  contemplation  probably  of  the  approach- 
ing  danger.     My    father,   who  was  quite   at  home  in   such   a  scene, 


230  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

walked  from  one  to  another,  and  reiterated  his  orders,  that  no  one 
should  presume  to  fire  until  he  gave  the  word.  Hazlewood,  who 
seemed  to  catch  courage  from  his  eye,  acted  as  his  aide  de  camp, 
and  displayed  the  utmost  alertness  in  bearing  his  directions  from  one 
place  to  another,  and  seeing  them  properly  carried  into  execution. 
Our  force,  with  the  strangers  included,  might  amount  to  about 
twelve  men. 

'At  length  the  silence  of  this  awful  period  of  expectation  was 
broken  by  a  sound,  which,  at  a  distance,  was  like  the  rushing  of  a 
stream  of  water,  but,  as  it  approached,  we  distinguished  the  thick- 
beating  clang  of  a  number  of  horses  advancing  very  fast.  I  had 
arranged  a  loop-hole  for  myself,  from  which  I  could  see  the  approach 
of  the  enemy.  The  noise  increased  and  came  nearer,  and  at  length 
thirty  horsemen  and  more  rushed  at  once  upon  the  lawn.  You  never 
saw  such  horrid  wretches !  Nothwithstanding  the  severity  of  the 
season,  they  were  most  of  them  stripped  to  their  shirts  and  trousers, 
with  silk  handkerchiefs  knotted  about  their  heads,  and  all  well  armed 
with  carbines,  pistols,  and  cutlasses.  I,  who  am  a  soldier's  daughter, 
and  accustomed  to  see  war  from  my  infancy,  was  never  so  terrified  in 
my  life  as  by  the  savage  appearance  of  these  ruffians,  their  horses 
reeking  with  the  speed  at  which  they  had  ridden,  and  their  furious 
exclamations  of  rage  and  disappointment  when  they  saw  themselves 
baulked  of  their  prey.  They  paused,  however,  when  they  saw  the 
preparations  made  to  receive  them,  and  appeared  to  hold  a  moment's 
consultation  among  themselves.  At  length,  one  of  the  party,  his 
face  blackened  witli  gunpowder  by  way  of  disguise,  came  forward 
with  a  white  handkerchief  on  the  end  of  his  carbine,  and  asked  to 
speak  with  Colonel  Mannering.  My  father,  to  my  infinite  terror, 
threw  open  a  window  near  which  he  was  posted,  and  demanded  what 
he  wanted.  "We  want  our  goods,  which  we  have  been  robbed  of  by 
these  sharks,"  said  the  fellow ;  "and  our  lieutenant  bids  me  say  that 
if  they  are  delivered  we'll  go  off  for  this  bout  without  clearing  scores 
with  the  rascals  who  took  them ;  but  if  not,  we'll  burn  the  house, 
and  have  the  heart's  Ibood  of  every  one  in  it;" — a  threat  which  he 
repeated  more  than  once,  graced  by  a  fresh  variety  of  imprecations 
and  the  most  horrid  denunciations  that  cruelty  could  suggest. 

'"And  which  is  your  lieutenant?"  said  my  father  in  reply. 

'  "That  gentleman  on  the  grey  horse,"  said  the  miscreant,  "with 
the  red  handkerchief  bound  about  his  brow." 

'  "Then  be  pleased  to  tell  that  gentleman,  that  if  he,  and  the 
scoundrels  who  are  with  him,  do  not  ride  off  the  lawn  this  instant, 
I  will  fire  upon  them  without  ceremony."  So  saying,  my  father  shut 
the  window  and  broke  short  the  conference. 

'The  fellow  no  sooner  regained  his  troops,  than,  with  a  loud  hurra, 
or  rather  a  savage  yell,  they  fired  a  volley  against  our  garrison.  The 
glass  of  the  windows  was  shattered  in  every  direction,  but  the  pre- 
cautions already  noticed  saved  the  party  within  from  suffering. 
Three  such  volleys  were  fired  without  a  shot  being  returned  from 
within.  My  father  then  observed  them  getting  hatchets  and  crows, 
probably  to  assail  the  hall  door,  and  called  aloud,  "Let  none  fire  but 


GUY    MANNERING  231 

Hazlewood  and  me — Hazlewood,  mark  the  ambassador !"  He  himself 
aimed  at  the  man  on  the  grey  horse,  who  fell  on  receiving  his  shot. 
Hazlewood  was  equally  successful.  He  shot  the  spokesman,  who  had 
dismounted  and  was  advancing  with  an  axe  in  his  hand.  Their  fall 
discouraged  the  rest,  who  began  to  turn  round  their  horses  t  and  a  few 
shots  fired  at  them  soon  sent  them  off,  bearing  along  with  them  their 
slain  or  wounded  companions.  We  could  not  observe  that  they 
suffered  any  further  loss.  Shortly  after  their  retreat,  a  party  of 
soldiers  made  their  appearance,  to  my  infinite  relief.  These  men 
were  quartered  at  a  village  some  miles  distant,  and  had  marched  on 
the  first  rumour  of  the  skirmish.  A  part  of  them  escorted  the 
terrified  revenue  officers  and  their  seizure  to  a  neighbouring  seaport 
as  a  place  of  safety,  and  at  my  earnest  request  two  or  three  files 
remained  with  us  for  that  and  the  following  day,  for  the  security 
of  the  house  from  the  vengeance  of  these  banditti. 

'Such,  dearest  Matilda,  was  my  first  alarm.  I  must  not  forget  to 
add  that  the  ruffians  left,  at  a  cottage  on  the  roadside,  the  man 
whose  face  was  blackened  with  powder,  apparently  because  he  was 
unable  to  bear  transportation.  He  died  in  about  half  an  hour  after. 
On  examining  the  corpse,  it  proved  to  be  that  of  a  proflieate  boor 
in  the  neighbourhood,  a  person  notorious  as  a  poacher  and  smuggler. 
We  received  many  messages  of  congratulation  from  the  neighbouring 
families,  and  it  was  generally  allowed  that  a  few  such  instances  of 
spirited  resistance  would  greatly  check  the  presumption  of  these 
lawless  men.  My  father  distributed  rewards  among  his  servants, 
and  praised  Hazlewood's  courage  and  coolness  to  the  skies.  Lucy 
and  I  came  in  for  a  share  of  his  applause,  because  we  had  stood  fire 
with  firmness,  and  had  not  disturbed  him  with  screams  or  expostula- 
tions. As  for  the  Dominie,  my  father  took  an  opportunity  of  begging 
to  exchange  snuff-boxes  with  him.  The  honest  gentleman  was  much 
flattered  with  the  proposal,  and  extolled  the  beauty  of  his  new 
snuff-box  excessively.  "It  looked,"  he  said,  "as  well  as  if  it  were 
real  gold  from  Ophir."  Indeed  it  would  be  odd  if  it  should  not.  being 
formed  in  fact  of  that  very  metal ;  but,  to  do  this  honest  creature 
justice,  I  believe  the  knowledge  of  its  real  value  would  not  enhance 
his  sense  of  my  father's  kindness,  supposing  it,  as  he  does,  to  be 
pinchbeck  gilded.  He  has  had  a  hard  task  replacing  the  folios  which 
were  used  in  the  barricade,  smoothing  out  the  creases  and  dog's-ears, 
and  repairing  the  other  disasters  they  have  sustained  during  their 
service  in  the  fortification.  He  brought  us  some  pieces  of  lead  and 
bullets,  which  these  ponderous  tomes  had  intercepted  during  the 
action,  and  which  he  had  extracted  with  great  care;  and,  were  I  in 
spirits,  I  could  give  you  a  comic  account  of  his  astonishment  at  the 
apathy  with  which  we  heard  of  the  wounds  and  mutilation  suffered 
by  Thomas  Aquinas,  or  the  venerable  Chrysostom.  But  I  am  not  in 
spirits,  and  I  have  yet  another  and  a  more  interesting  incident  to 
communicate.  I  feel,  however,  so  much  fatigued  with  my  present 
exertion,  that  I  cannot  resume  the  pen  till  to-morrow.  I  will  detain 
this  letter  notwithstanding,  that  you  may  not  feel  any  anxiety  upon 
account   of  your  own  'Julia  Mannering.' 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

Here's  a  good  world 

Knew  you  of  this  fair  work? 

King  John. 

JULIA  MANNERING  TO  MATILDA  MARCHMONT 

I  MUST  take  up  the  thread  of  my  story,  my  dearest  Matilda, 
where  I  broke  off  yesterday. 
'For  two  or  three  days  we  talked  of  nothing  but  our  siege 
and  its  probable  consequences,  and  dinned  into  my  father's 
unwilling  ears  a  proposal  to  go  to  Edinburgh,  or  at  least  to  Dumfries 
where  there  is  remarkably  good  society,  until  the  resentment  of  these 
outlaws  should  blow  over.  He  answered,  with  great  composure,  that 
he  had  no  mind  to  have  his  landlord's  house  and  his  own  property 
at  Woodbourne  destroyed ;  that,  with  our  good  leave,  he  had  usually 
been  esteemed  competent  to  taking  measures  for  the  safety  or  pro- 
tection of  his  family  ;  that  if  he  remained  quiet  at  home,  he  conceived 
the  welcome  the  villains  had  received  was  not  of  a  nature  to  invite 
a  second  visit,  but  should  he  show  any  signs  of  alarm,  it  would  be 
the  sure  way  to  incur  the  very  risk  which  we  were  afraid  of. 
Heartened  by  his  arguments,  and  by  the  extreme  indifference  with 
which  he  treated  the  supposed  danger,  we  began  to  grow  a  little 
bolder  and  to  v/alk  about  as  usual.  Only  the  gentlemen  were  some- 
times invited  to  take  their  guns  when  they  attended  us ;  and  I  ob- 
served that  my  father  for  several  nights  paid  particular  attention  to 
having  the  house  properly  secured,  and  required  his  domestics  to 
keep  their  arms  in  readiness  in  case  of  necessity. 

'But  three  days  ago  chanced  an  occurrence,  of  a  nature  which 
alarmed  me  more  by  far  than  the  attack  of  the  smugglers. 

'I  told  you  there  was  a  small  lake  at  some  distance  from  Wood- 
bourne,  where  the  gentlemen  sometimes  go  to  shoot  wild-fowl.  I 
happened  at  breakfast  to  say  I  should  like  to  see  this  place  in  its 
present  frozen  state,  occupied  by  skaters  and  curlers,  as  they  call 
those  who  play  a  particular  sort  of  game  upon  the  ice.  There  is 
snow  on  the  ground,  but  frozen  so  hard  that  I  thought  Lucy  and  I 
might  venture  to  that  distance,  as  the  footpath  leading  there  was 
well  beaten  by  the  repair  of  those  who  frequented  it  for  pastime. 
Hazlewood  instantly  offered  to  attend  us,  and  we  stipulated  that  he 
should  take  his  fowling-piece.  He  laughed  a  good  deal  at  the  idea 
of  going  a-shooting  in  the  snow  ;  but,  to  relieve  our  tremors,  desired 
that  a  groom,  who  acts  as  gamekeeper  occasionally,  should  follow  us 
with  his  gun.     As  for  Colonel  Mannering,  he  does  not  like  crowds 

232 


i 


GUY    MANXERIXG  233 

or  sights  of  any  kind  where  human  figures  make  up  the  show,  unless 
indeed  it  were  a  military  review — so  he  declined  the  party. 

'We  set  out  unusually  early,  on  a  fine  frosty,  exhilarating  morning, 
and  we  felt  our  minds,  as  well  as  our  nerves,  braced  by  the  elasticity 
of  the  pure  air.  Our  walk  to  the  lake  was  delightful,  or  at  least  the 
difficulties  were  only  such  as  diverted  us — a  slippery  descent,  for 
instance,  or  a  frozen  ditch  to  cross, — which  made  Hazlewood's 
assistance  absolutely  necessary.  I  don't  think  Lucy  liked  her  walk 
the   less    for   these   occasional   embarrassments. 

'The  scene  upon  the  lake  was  beautiful.  One  side  of  it  is  bordered 
by  a  steep  crag,  from  which  hung  a  thousand  enormous  icicles,  all 
glittering  in  the  sun ;  on  the  other  side  was  a  little  wood,  now 
exhibiting  that  fantastic  appearance  which  the  pine  trees  present 
when  their  branches  are  loaded  with  snow.  On  the  frozen  bosom  of 
the  lake  itself  were  a  multitude  of  moving  figures,  some  flitting  along 
with  the  velocity  of  swallows,  some  sweeping  in  the  most  graceful 
circles,  and  others  deeply  interested  in  a  less  active  pastime,  crowding 
round  the  spot  where  the  inhabitants  of  two  rival  parishes  contended 
for  the  prize  at  curling, — an  honour  of  no  small  importance,  if  we 
were  to  judge  from  the  anxiety  expressed  both  by  the  players  and  by- 
standers. We  walked  round  the  little  lake,  supported  by  Hazlewood, 
who  lent  us  each  an  arm.  He  spoke,  poor  fellow,  with  great  kind- 
ness to  old  and  young,  and  seemed  deservedly  popular  among  the 
assembled  crowd.     At  length  we  thought  of  retiring. 

'Why  do  I  mention  these  trivial  occurrences  ? — not,  Heaven  knows 
from  the  interest  I  can  now  attach  to  them — but  because,  like  a 
drowning  man  who  catches  at  a  brittle  twig,  I  seize  every  apology 
for  delaying  the  subsequent  and  dreadful  part  of  my  narrative.  But 
it  must  be  communicated — I  must  have  the  sympathy  of  at  least 
one  friend  under  this  heart-rending  calamity. 

'We  were  returning  home  by  a  footpath  which  led  through  a 
plantation  of  firs.  Lucy  had  quitted  Hazlewood's  arm — it  is  only  the 
plea  of  absolute  necessity  which  reconciles  her  to  accept  his  assis- 
tance. I  still  leaned  upon  his  other  arm.  Lucy  followed  us  close, 
and  the  servant  was  two  or  three  paces  behind  us.  Such  was  our 
position,  when  at  once,  and  as  if  he  had  started  out  of  the  earth. 
Brown  stood  before  us  at  a  short  turn  of  the  road !  He  was  very 
plainly,  I  might  say  coarsely,  dressed,  and  his  whole  appearance  had 
in  it  something  wild  and  agitated.  I  screamed  between  surprise  and 
terror — Hazlewood  mistook  the  nature  of  my  alarm,  and.  when 
Brown  advanced  towards  me  as  if  to  speak,  commanded  him 
haughtily  to  stand  back  and  not  to  alarm  the  lady.  Brown  replied, 
with  equal  asperity,  he  had  no  occasion  to  take  lessons  from  him 
how  to  behave  to  that  or  any  other  lady.  I  rather  believe  that 
Hazlewood,  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  belonged  to  the  band 
of  smugglers,  and  had  some  bad  purpose  in  view,  heard  and  under- 
stood him  imperfectly.  He  snatched  the  gun  from  the  servant,  who 
had  come  up  on  a  line  with  us,  and,  pointing  the  muzzle  at  Brown, 
commanded  him  to  stand  oti  at  his  peril.  My  screams,  for  my  terror 
prevented  my  finding  articulate  language,  only  hastened  the  catastro- 


234.  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

phe.  Brown,  thus  menaced,  sprung  upon  Hazlewood,  grappled  with 
him,  and  had  nearly  succeeded  in  wrenching  the  fowling-piece  from 
his  grasp,  when  the  gun  went  off  in  the  struggle,  and  the  contents 
were  lodged  in  Hazlewood's  shoulder,  who  instantly  fell.  I  saw 
no  more,  for  the  whole  scene  reeled  before  my  eyes,  and  I  fainted 
away ;  but,  by  Lucy's  report,  the  unhappy  perpetrator  of  this  action 
gazed  a  moment  on  the  scene  before  him.  until  her  screams  began 
to  alarm  the  people  upon  the  lake,  several  of  whom  now  came  in 
sight.  He  then  bounded  over  a  hedge  which  divided  the  footpath 
from  the  plantation,  and  has  not  since  been  heard  of.  The  servant 
made  no  attempt  to  stop  or  secure  him,  and  the  report  he  made  of 
the  matter  to  those  who  came  up  to  us,  induced  them  rather  to 
exercise  their  humanity  in  recalling  me  to  life,  than  show  their 
courage  by  pursuing  a  desperado,  described  by  the  groom  as  a  man 
of  tremendous  personal  strength,   and   completely  armed. 

"Hazlewood  was  conveyed  home, — that  is,  to  Woodbourne,  in 
safety ;  I  trust  his  wound  will  prove  in  no  respect  dangerous,  though 
he  suffers  much.  But  to  Brown  the  consequences  must  be  most 
disastrous.  He  is  already  the  object  of  my  father's  resentment,  and 
he  has  now  incurred  danger  from  the  law  of  the  country,  as  well  as 
from  the  clamourous  vengeance  of  the  father  of  Hazlewood,  who 
threatens  to  move  heaven  and  earth  against  the  author  of  his  son's 
wound.  How  will  he  be  able  to  shroud  himself  from  the  vindictive 
activity  of  the  pursuit? — how  to  defend  himself,  if  taken,  against 
the  severity  of  laws  which  I  am  told  may  even  affect  his  life?  and 
how  can  I  find  means  to  warn  him  of  his  danger?  Then  poor 
Lucy's  ill-concealed  grief,  occasioned  by  her  lover's  wound,  is  another 
source  of  distress  to  me,  and  everything  round  me  appears  to  bear 
witness  against  that  indiscretion  which  has  occasioned  this  calamity. 

'For  two  days  I  was  very  ill  indeed.  The  news  that  Hazlewood 
was  recovering,  and  that  the  person  who  had  shot  him  was  nowhere 
to  be  traced,  only  that  for  certain  he  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the 
gang  of  smugglers,  gave  me  some  comfort.  The  suspicion  and  pursuit 
being  directed  towards  those  people,  must  naturally  facilitate  Brown's 
escape,  and,  I  trust,  has  ere  this  insured  it.  But  patrols  of  horse 
and  foot  traverse  the  country  in  all  directions,  and  I  am  tortured 
by  a  thousand  confused  and  unauthenticaled  rumours  of  arrests  and 
discoveries. 

•Meanwhile,  my  greatest  source  of  comfort  is  the  generous  candour 
of  Hazlewood,  who  persists  in  declaring,  that  with  whatever  inten- 
tions the  person  by  whom  he  was  wounded  approached  our  party,  he 
is  convinced  the  gun  went  off  in  the  struggle  by  accident,  and  that 
the  injury  he  received  was  undesigned.  The  groom,  on  the  other 
hand,  maintains  that  the  piece  was  wrenched  out  of  Hazlewood's 
hands,  and  deliberately  pointed  at  his  body, — and  Lucy  inclines  to 
the  same  opinion.  I  do  not  suspect  them  of  wilful  exaggeration;  yet 
such  is  the  fallacy  of  human  testimony,  for  the  tmhappy  shot  was 
most  unquestionably  discharged  unintentionally.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  the  best  way  to  confide  the  whole  secret  to  Hazlewood — but  he  is 
very  young,  and  I  feel  the  utmost  repugnance  to  communicate  to  him 


GUY    MANNERING  235 

my  folly.  I  once  thought  of  disclosing  the  mystery  to  Lucy,  and 
began  by  asking  what  she  recollected  of  the  person  and  features  of 
the  man  whom  we  had  so  unfortunately  met ; — but  she  ran  out  into 
such  a  horrid  description  of  a  hedge-ruffian,  that  I  was  deprived  of 
all  courage  and  disposition  to  own  my  attachment  to  one  of  such 
appearance  as  she  attributed  to  him.  I  must  say  Miss  Bertram  is 
strangely  biassed  by  her  prepossessions,  for  there  are  few  handsomer 
men  than  poor  Brown.  I  had  not  seen  him  for  a  long  time  ;  and 
even  in  his  strange  and  sudden  apparition  on  this  unhappy  occasion, 
and  under  every  disadvantage,  his  form  seems  to  me.  on  reflection, 
improved  in  grace,  and  his  features  in  expressive  dignity. — Shall 
we  ever  meet  again  ?  Who  can  answer  that  question  ? — Write  to  me 
kindly,  my  dearest  Matilda — But  when  did  you  otherwise — Yet, 
again,  write  to  me  soon,  and  write  to  me  kindly.  I  am  not  in  a 
situation  to  profit  by  advice  or  reproof,  nor  have  I  my  usual  spirits 
to  parry  them  by  raillery.  I  feel  the  terrors  of  a  child  who  has, 
in  heedless  sport,  put  in  motion  some  powerful  piece  of  machinery ; 
and,  while  he  beholds  wheels  revolving,  chains  clashing,  cylinders 
rolling  around  him,  is  equally  astonished  at  the  tremendous  powers 
which  his  weak  agency  has  called  into  action,  and  terrified  for  the 
consequences  which  he  is  compelled  to  await,  without  the  possibility 
of  averting  them. 

'I  must  not  omit  to  say  that  my  father  is  very  kind  and  affectionate. 
The  alarm  which  I  have  received  forms  a  sufficient  apology  for  my 
nervous  complaints.  My  hopes  are,  that  Brown  has  made  his  escape 
into  the  sister  kingdom  of  England,  or  perhaps  to  Ireland,  or  the 
Isle  of  Man.  In  either  case,  he  may  wait  the  issue  of  Hazlewood's 
wound  with  safety  and  with  patience,  for  the  communication  of 
these  countries  with  Scotland  for  the  purpose  of  justice,  is  not 
(thank  Heaven)  of  an  intimate  nature.  The  consequences  of  his 
being  apprehended  would  be  terrible  at  this  moment. — I  endeavour 
to  strengthen  my  mind  by  arguing  against  the  possibility  of  such  a 
calamity.  Alas  !  how  soon  have  sorrows  and  fears,  real  as  well  as 
severe,  followed  the  uniform  and  tranquil  state  of  existence  at  which 
so  lately  I  was  disposed  to  repine  !  But  I  will  not  oppress  you  any 
longer  with  my  complaints.     Adieu,  my  dearest  Matilda  ! 

'Julia   Mannering.' 


D-9 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A  man  may  see  how  this  world  goes  with  no  eyes. — Look  with 
thine  ears:  See  how  yon  justice  rails  upon  yon  simple  thief.  Hark 
in  thine  ear — Change  places ;  and,  handy-dandy,  which  is  the  justice, 
which  is  the  thief? 

King  Lear. 

AMONG    those    who    took   the    most    lively    interest    in 

/-\     endeavouring  to  discover  the  person  by  whom  young 

-^-*-  Charles  Hazlewood  had  been  waylaid  and  wounded, 

was  Gilbert  Glossin,  Esquire,  late  writer  in ,  now  Laird 

of  Ellangowan,   and  one  of  the  worshipful  commission  of 

justices  of  the  peace  for  the  county  of  .     His  motives 

for  exertion  on  this  occasion  were  manifold;  but  we 
presume  that  our  readers,  from  what  they  already  know 
of  this  gentleman,  will  acquit  him  of  being  actuated  by 
any  zealous  or  intemperate  love  of  abstract  justice. 

The  truth  was,  that  this  respectable  personage  felt  him- 
self less  at  ease  than  he  had  expected,  after  his  machina- 
tions put  him  in  possession  of  his  benefactor's  estate.  His 
reflections  within  doors,'  where  so  much  occurred  to  remind 
him  of  former  times,  were  not  always  the  self-congratula- 
tions of  successful  stratagem.  And  when  he  looked  abroad, 
he  could  not  but  be  sensible  that  he  was  excluded  from  the 
society  of  the  gentry  of  the  county,  to  whose  rank  he  con- 
ceived he  had  raised  himself.  He  was  not  admitted  to  their 
clubs;  and  at  meetings  of  a  public  nature,  from  which  he 
could  not  be  altogether  excluded,  he  found  himself  thwarted 
and  looked  upon  with  coldness  and  contempt.  Both  prin- 
ciple and  prejudice  co-operated  in  creating  this  dislike ; 
for  the  gentlemen  of  the  county  despised  him  for  the  low- 
ness  of  his  birth,  while  they  hated  him  for  the  means  by 
which  he  had  raised  his  fortune.  With  the  common  people 
his  reputation  stood  still  worse.  They  would  neither  yield 
him  the  territorial  appellation  of  Ellangowan.  nor  the  usual 
compliment  of  Air.  Glossin ; — with  them  he  was  bare  Glossin, 

236 


GUY    MAXNERING  237 

and  so  incredibly  was  his  vanity  interested  by  this  trifling 
circumstance,  that  he  was  known  to  give  half  a  crown  to  a 
beggar  because  he  had  thrice  called  him  Ellangowan,  in 
beseeching  him  for  a  penny.  He  therefore  felt  acutely  the 
general  want  of  respect,  and  particularly  when  he  contrasted 
his  own  character  and  reception  in  society  with  those  of  Mr. 
Mac-Morlan,  who,  in  far  inferior  worldly  circumstances, 
was  beloved  and  respected  both  by  rich  and  poor,  and  was 
slowly  but  securely  laying  the  foundation  of  a  moderate 
fortune,  with  the  general  goodwill  and  esteem  of  all  who 
knew  him. 

Glossin,  while  he  repined  internally  at  what  he  would 
fain  have  called  the  prejudices  and  prepossessions  of  the 
country,  was  too  wise  to  make  any  open  complaint.  He 
was  sensible  his  elevation  was  too  recent  to  be  immediately 
forgotten,  and  the  means  by  which  he  had  attained  it  too 
odious  to  be  soon  forgiven.  But  time  (though  he)  diminishes 
wonder  and  palliates  misconduct.  With  the  dexterity,  there- 
fore, of  one  who  made  his  fortune  by  studying  the  weak 
points  of  human  nature,  he  determined  to  lie  by  for  oppor- 
tunities to  make  himself  useful  even  to  those  who  most  dis- 
liked him;  trusting  that  his  own  abilities,  the  disposition  of 
country  gentlemen  to  get  into  quarrels,  when  a  lawyer's 
advice  becomes  precious  and  a  thousand  other  contingencies, 
of  which,  with  patience  and  address,  he  doubted  not  to  be 
able  to  avail  himself,  would  soon  place  him  in  a  more  im- 
portant and  respectable  light  to  his  neighbours,  and  perhaps 
raise  him  to  the  eminence  sometimes  attained  by  a  shrewd, 
worldly,  bustling  man  of  business,  when,  settled  among  a 
generation   of   country  gentlemen,  he  becomes,   in   Burns's 

language. 

The  tongue  of  the  trump  to  them  a'.* 

The  attack  on  Colonel  Mannering's  house,  followed  by 
the  accident  of  Hazlewood's  wound,  appeared  to  Glossin 
a  proper  opportunity  to  impress  upon  the  country  at  large 
the  service  which  could  be  rendered  by  an  active  magistrate 
(for  he  had  been  in  the  commission  for  some  time),  well 
acquainted  with  the  law,  and  no  less   so  with  the  haunts 

^  The  tongue  of  the  trump  is  the  wire  of  the  Jew's  harp,  that  which  gives 
sound  to  the  whole  instrument. 


238  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

and  habits  of  the  illicit  traders.  He  had  acquired  the  latter 
kind  of  experience  by  a  former  close  alliance  with  some 
of  the  most  desperate  smugglers,  in  consequence  of  which 
he  had  occasionally  acted,  sometimes  as  partner,  sometimes 
as  legal  adviser,  with  these  persons.  But  the  connexion 
had  been  dropped  many  years;  nor,  considering  how  short 
the  race  of  eminent  characters  of  this  description,  and  the 
frequent  circumstances  which  occur  to  make  them  retire 
from  particular  scenes  of  action,  had  he  the  least  reason  to 
think  that  his  present  researches  could  possibly  compromise 
any  old  friend  who  might  possess  means  of  retaliation. 
The  having  been  concerned  in  these  practices  abstractedly, 
was  a  circumstance  which,  according  to  his  opinion,  ought  in 
no  respect  to  interfere  with  his  now  using  his  experience 
in  behalf  of  the  public, — or  rather  to  further  his  own 
private  views.  To  acquire  the  good  opinion  and  counte- 
nance of  Colonel  Mannering  would  be  no  small  object  to 
a  gentleman  who  was  much  disposed  to  escape  from 
Coventry;  and  to  gain  the  favour  of  old  Hazlewood,  who 
was  a  leading  man  in  the  county,  was  of  more  importance 
still.  Lastly,  if  he  should  succeed  in  discovering,  ap- 
prehending, and  convicting  the  culprits,  Ke  would  have  the 
satisfaction  of  mortifying,  and  in  some  degree  disparaging 
Mac-Morlan,  to  whom,  as  Sheriff-substitute  of  the  county, 
this  sort  of  investigation  properly  belonged,  and  who  would 
certainly  suffer  in  public  opinion  ihould  the  voluntary  exer- 
tions of  Glossin  be  more  successful  than  his  own. 

Actuated  by  motives  so  stimulating,  and  well  acquainted 
with  the  lower  retainers  of  the  law,  Glossin  set  every  spring 
in  motion  to  detect  and  apprehend,  if  possible,  some  of 
the  gang  who  had  attacked  Woodbourne,  and  more  par- 
ticularly the  individual  who  had  wounded  Charles  Hazle- 
wood. He  promised  high  rewards,  he  suggested  various 
schemes,  and  used  his  personal  interest  among  his  old  ac- 
quaintances who  favoured  the  trade,  urging  that  they  had 
better  make  sacrifice  of  an  understrapper  or  two,  than  incur 
the  odium  of  having  favoured  such  atrocious  proceedings. 
But  for  some  time  all  these  exertions  were  in  vain.  The 
common  people  of  the  country  either  favoured  or  feared 
the   smugglers    too    much   to    afford    any   evidence    against 


GUY    MANNERING  239 

them.  At  length,  this  busy  magistrate  obtained  information, 
that  a  man,  having  the  dress  and  appearance  of  the  person 
who  had  wounded  Hazlewood,  had  lodged  on  the  evening 
before  the  rencontre  at  the  'Gordon  Arms'  in  Kippletringan. 
Thither  Mr.  Glossin  immediately  went,  for  the  purpose  of 
interrogating  our  old  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish. 

The  reader  may  remember  that  Mr.  Glossin  did  not,  ac- 
cording to  this  good  woman's  phrase,  stand  high  in  her 
books.  She  therefore  attended  his  summons  to  the  parlour 
slowly  and  reluctantly,  and,  on  entering  the  room,  paid  her 
respects  in  the  coldest  possible  manner.  The  dialogue  then 
proceeded  as  follows: — 

'A  fine  frosty  morning,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish.' 
'Aye,  sir ;  the  morning  's  weel  eneugh,'  answered  the  land- 
lady, drily. 

'Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  I  wish  to  know  if  the  justices  are 
to  dine  here  as  usual  after  the  business  of  the  court  on 
Tuesday  ?' 

'I  believe — I  fancy  sac,  sir — as  usual' — (about  to  leave 
the  i'oom). 

'Stay  a  moment,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish — why,  you  are  in 
a  prodigious  hurry,  my  good  friend !  I  have  been  thinking 
a  club  dining  here  once  a  month  would  be  a  very  pleasant 
thing.' 

'Certainly,  sir;  a  club  of  respectable  gentlemen.' 
'True,  true,'  said  Glossin,  'I  mean  landed  proprietors  and 
gentlemen  of  weight  in  the  county;  and  I  should  like  to  set 
such  a  thing  a-going.' 

The  short  dry  cough  with  which  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish 
received  this  proposal,  by  no  means  indicated  any  dislike 
to  the  overture  abstractedly  considered,  but  inferred  much 
doubt  how  far  it  would  succeed  under  the  auspices  of  the 
gentleman  by  whom  it  was  proposed.  It  was  not  a  cough 
negative,  but  a  cough  dubious,  and  as  such  Glossin  felt  it; 
but  it  was  not  his  cue  to  take  offence. 

'Have  there  been  brisk  doings  on  the  road,  Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish?  plenty  of  company,  I  suppose?' 

'Pretty  weel,  sir, — ^but  I  believe  I  am  wanted  at  the  bar.' 

'No,    no, — stop   one   moment,    cannot    you,    to    oblige    an 

old  customer?     Pray,  do  you  remember  a  remarkably  tall 


240  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

young  man,  who  lodged  one  night  in  your  house  last 
week  ?' 

'Troth,  sir,  I  canna  weel  say — I  never  take  heed  whether 
my  company  be  lang  or  short,  if  they  make  a  lang  bill.' 

'And  if  they  do  not,  you  can  do  that  for  them,  eh,  Mrs. 
Mac-Candlish  ? — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — But  this  young  man  that  I 
inquire  after  was  upwards  of  six  feet  high,  had  a  dark 
frock,  with  metal  buttons,  light-brown  hair  unpowdered, 
blue  eyes,  and  a  straight  nose,  travelled  on  foot,  had  no 
servant  or  baggage — you  surely  can  remember  having  seen 
such  a  traveller?' 

'Indeed,  sir,'  answered  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  bent  on 
baffling  his  inquiries,  'I  canna  charge  my  memory  about 
the  matter — there  's  mair  to  do  in  a  house  like  this,  I  trow, 
than  to  look  after  passengers'  hair,  or  their  een,  or  noses 
either.' 

"Then,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  I  must  tell  you  in  plain 
terms,  that  this  person  is  suspected  of  having  been  guilty 
of  a  crime ;  and  it  is  in  consequence  of  these  suspicions 
that  I,  as  a  magistrate,  require  this  information  from  you, — 
and  if  you  refuse  to  answer  my  questions,  I  must  put  you 
upon  your  oath.' 

"Troth,  sir,  I  am  no  free  to  swear* — we  ay  gaed  to  the 
Antiburgher  meeting — it's  very  true,  in  Bailie  Mac-Cand- 
lish's  time  (honest  man)  we  keepit  the  kirk,  whilk  was 
most  seemingly  in  his  station,  as  having  office — but  after 
his  being  called  to  a  better  place  than  Kippletringan,  I  hae 
gaen  back  to  worthy  Maister  Mac-Grainer.  And  so  ye  see, 
sir,  I  am  no  clear  to  swear  without  speaking  to  the  minister 
— especially  against  ony  sackles  puir  young  thing  that's  gaun 
through  the  country,  stranger  and  freendless  like.' 

*I  shall  relieve  your  scruples,  perhaps,  without  troubling 
Mr.  Mac-Grainer,  when  I  tell  you  that  this  fellow  whom  I 
inquire  after  is  the  man  who  shot  your  young  friend  Charles 
Hazlewood.' 

'Gudeness  !  wha  could  hae  thought  the  like  o'  that  o'  him? — 
Na,  if  it  had  been  for  debt,  or  e'en  for  a  bit  tuilzie  wi'  the 
gauger,  the  deil  o'  Nelly  Mac-Candlish's  tongue  should  ever 
hae  wranged  him.    But  if  he  really  shot  young  Hazlewood — 

*  Some  of  the  strict  dissenters  decline  taking  an  oath  before  a  civil 
magistrate. 


GUY    MANNERING  241 

But  I  canna  think  it,  Mr.  Glossin ;  this  will  be  some  o'  your 
skits'  now — I  canna  think  it  o'  sac  douce  a  lad ; — na,  na,  this 
is  just  some  o'  your  auld  skits — ye'll  be  for  having  a  horning 
or  a  caption  after  him.' 

'I  see  you  have  no  confidence  in  me,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish ; 
but  look  at  these  declarations,  signed  by  the  persons  who 
saw  the  crime  committed,  and  judge  yourself  if  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  ruffian  be  not  that  of  your  guest.' 

He  put  the  papers  into  her  hands,  which  she  perused  very 
carefully,  often  taking  off  her  spectacles  to  cast  her  eyes  up 
to  heaven  or  perhaps  to  wipe  a  tear  from  them,  for  young 
Hazlewood  was  an  especial  favourite  with  the  good  dame. 
'Aweel,  aweel,'  she  said,  when  she  had  concluded  her  ex- 
amination, 'since  it's  e'en  sae,  I  gie  him  up,  the  villain — But 
oh,  we  are  erring  mortals  ! — I  never  saw  a  face  I  liked  better, 
or  a  lad  that  was  mair  douce  and  canny — I  thought  he  had 
been  some  gentleman  under  trouble. — But  I  gie  him  up,  the 
villain  ! — to  shoot  Charles  Hazlewood — and  before  the  young 
ladies, — poor  innocent  things  ! — I  gie  him  up.' 

'So  you  admit,  then,  that  such  a  person  lodged  here  the 
night  before  this  vile  business?' 

'Troth  did  he,  sir,  and  a'  the  house  were  taen  wi'  him,  he 
was  sic  a  frank,  pleasant  young  man.  It  wasna  for  his 
spending,  I'm  sure,  for  he  just  had  a  mutton-chop  and  a  mug 
of  ale,  and  maybe  a  glass  or  twa  o'  wine — and  I  asked  him 
to  drink  tea  wi'  mysell,  and  didna  put  that  into  the  bill ;  and 
he  took  nae  supper,  for  he  said  he  was  defeat  wi'  travel  a'  the 
night  afore — I  dare  say  now  it  had  been  on  some  hellicat  er- 
rand or  other.' 

'Did  you  by  any  chance  learn  his  name?' 

'I  wot  weel  did  I,'  said  the  landlady,  now  as  eager  to 
communicate  her  evidence  as  formerly  desirous  to  suppress 
it.  'He  tell'd  me  his  name  was  Brown,  and  he  said  it  was 
likely  that  an  auld  woman  like  a  gipsy  wife  might  be  asking 
for  him.  Aj'e,  aye  !  tell  me  your  company,  and  I'll  tell  you 
wha  ye  are !  Oh  the  villain  ! — Aweel,  sir,  when  he  gaed 
away  in  the  morning,  he  paid  his  bill  very  honestly,  and  gae 
something  to  the  chambermaid,  nae  doubt,  for  Grizy  has 
naething  frae  me,  by  twa  pair  o'  new  shoon  ilka  year,  and 

^  Tricks. 


242  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

maybe    a    bit    compliment    at    Hansel    Monanday' Here 

Glossin  found  it  necessary  to  interfere,  and  bring  the  good 
woman  back  to  the  point. 

"Ou  then,  he  just  said,  if  there  comes  such  a  person  to 
inquire  after  Mr.  Brown,  you  will  say  I  am  gone  to  look  at 
the  skaters  on  Loch  Creeran,  as  you  call  it,  and  I  will  be  back 
here  to  dinner — But  he  never  came  back — though  I  expected 
him  sae  faithfully,  that  I  gae  a  look  to  making  the  friar's 
chicken  mysell,  and  to  the  crappit-heads  too,  and  that's  what 
I  dinna  do  for  ordinary,  Mr.  Glossin— But  little  did  I  think 
what  skating  wark  he  was  gaun  about — to  shoot  Mr.  Charles, 
the  innocent  lamb  !' 

Mr.  Glossin,  having,  like  a  prudent  examinator,  suffered  his 
witness  to  give  vent  to  all  her  surprise  and  indignation,  now 
began  to  inquire  whether  the  suspected  person  had  left  any 
property  or  papers  about  the  inn. 

Troth,  he  put  a  parcel — a  sma'  parcel,  under  my  charge, 
and  he  gave  me  some  siller,  and  desired  me  to  get  him 
half  a  dozen  ruffled  sarks,  and  Peg  Pasley's  in  hands  wi' 
them  e'en  now — they  may  serve  him  to  gang  up  the  Lawn- 
market'  in,  the  scoundrel !'  Mr.  Glossin  then  demanded  to 
see  the  packet,  but  here  mine  hostess  demurred. 

'She  dinna  ken — she  wad  not  say  but  justice  should  take 
its  course — but  when  a  thing  was  trusted  to  ane  in  her  way, 
doubtless  they  were  responsible — but  she  suld  cry  in  Deacon 
BearcHff,  and  if  Mr.  Glossin  liked  to  tak  an  inventar  o'  the 
property,  and  gie  her  a  receipt  before  the  Deacon — or,  what 
she  wad  like  muckle  better,  an  it  could  be  sealed  up  and  left 
in  Deacon  Bearcliff's  hands,  it  wad  mak  her  mind  easy — she 
was  for  naething  but  justice  on  a'  sides.' 

Mrs.  Mac-Candlish's  natural  sagacity  and  acquired  sus- 
picion being  inflexible,  Glossin  sent  for  Deacon  Bearcliff, 
to  speak  'anent  the  villain  that  had  shot  Mr.  Charles  Hazle- 
wood.'  The  Deacon  accordingly  made  his  appearance  with 
his  wig  awry,  owing  to  the  hurry  with  which,  at  this  sum- 

'  The  procession  of  the  criminals  to  the  gallows  of  old  took  that  direction, 
moving,  as  the  schoolboy  rhyme  had  it — 

Up   the    Lawn-market, 
Down  the  West  Bow, 
Up  the  lang  ladder. 
And  down  the  little  tow. 


GUY    MANNERING  243 

mons  of  the  Justice,  he  had  exchanged  it  f©r  the  Kilmarnock- 
cap  in  which  he  usually  attended  his  customers.  Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish  then  produced  the  parcel  deposited  with  her  by- 
Brown,  in  which  was  found  the  gipsy's  purse.  On  perceiv- 
ing the  value  of  the  miscellaneous  contents,  Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish  internally  congratulated  herself  upon  the  precau- 
tions she  had  taken  before  delivering  them  up  to  Glossin, 
while  he,  with  an  appearance  of  disinterested  candour,  was 
the  first  to  propose  they  should  be  properly  inventoried,  and 
deposited  with  Deacon  Bearcliff,  until  they  should  be  sent  to 
the  Crown-ofifice.  'He  did  not,'  he  observed,  'like  to  be  per- 
sonally responsible  for  articles  which  seemed  of  considerable 
value,  and  had  doubtless  been  acquired  by  the  most  nefarious 
practices.' 

He  then  examined  the  paper  in  which  the  purse  had  been 
wrapped  up.  It  was  the  back  of  a  letter  addressed  to 
V.  Brown,  Esquire,  but  the  rest  of  the  address  was  torn 
away.  The  landlady, — now  as  eager  to  throw  light  upon  the 
criminal's  escape  as  she  had  formerly  been  desirous  of  with- 
holding it.  for  the  miscellaneous  contents  of  the  purse  argued 
strongly  to  her  mind  that  all  was  not  right, — Mrs.  Mac- 
Candlish,  I  say,  now  gave  Glossin  to  understand,  that  her 
postilion  and  hostler  had  both  seen  the  stranger  upon  the  ice 
that  day  when  young  Hazlewood  was  wounded. 

Our  readers'  old  acquaintance,  Jock  Jabos,  was  first  sum- 
moned, and  admitted  frankly  that  he  had  seen  and  conversed 
upon  the  ice  that  morning  with  a  stranger,  who  he  under- 
stood, had  lodged  at  the  'Gordon  Arms'  the  night  before. 

'What  turn  did  your  conversation  take?'  said  Glossin. 

'Turn? — ou,  we  turned  nae  gate  at  a",  but  just  keepit 
straight  forward  upon  the  ice  like.' 

'Well,  but  what  did  ye  speak  about?' 

'Ou,  he  just  asked  questions  like  ony  ither  stranger,' 
answered  the  postilion,  possessed,  as  it  seemed,  with  the 
refractory  and  uncommunicative  spirit  which  had  left  his 
mistress. 

'But  about  what?'  said  Glossin. 

'Ou,  just  about  the  folk  that  was  playing  at  the  curling, 
and  about  auld  Jock  Stevenson  that  was  at  the  cock,  and 
about  the  leddies,  and  sic  like.' 


244  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT 

'What  ladies?  and  what  did  he  ask  about  them,  Jock?'  said 
the  interrogator. 

'What  leddies?  ou'  it  was  Miss  Jowlia  Mannering  and 
Miss  Lucy  Bertram,  that  ye  ken  fu'  weel  yoursell,  Mr. 
Glossin — they  were  walking  wi'  the  young  Laird  of  Hazle- 
wood  upon  the  ice.' 

'And  what  did  you  tell  him  about  them?'  demanded  Glossin. 

'Tut,  we  just  said  that  was  Miss  Lucy  Bertram  of  Ellan- 
gowan,  that  should  ance  have  had  a  great  estate  in  the  coun- 
try,— and  that  was  Miss  Jowlia  Mannering,  that  was  to  be 
married  to  young  Hazlewood — See  as  she  was  hinging  on  his 
arm.  We  just  spoke  about  our  country  clashes  like — he  was 
a  very  frank  man.' 

'Well,  and  what  did  he  say  in  answer  ?' 

'Ou,  he  just  stared  at  the  young  leddies  very  keen  like, 
and  asked  if  it  was  for  certain  that  the  marriage  was  to  be 
between  Miss  Mannering  and  young  Hazlewood — and  I  an- 
swered him  that  it  was  for  positive  and  absolute  certain, 
as  I  had  an  undoubted  right  to  say  sae— for  my  third  cousin, 
Jean  Clavers  (she's  a  relation  o'  your  ain.  Mr.  Glossin — ye 
wad  ken  Jean  lang  syne?)  she's  sib  to  the  housekeeper  at 
Woodbourne,  and  she's  tell'd  me  mair  than  ance  that  there 
was  naething  could  be  mair  likely.' 

'And  what  did  the  stranger  say  when  you  told  him  all 
this?'  said  Glossin. 

'Say?'  echoed  the  postilion,  'he  said  naething  at  a' — 
he  just  stared  at  them  as  they  walked  round  the  loch  upon, 
the  ice,  as  if  he  could  have  eaten  them,  and  he  never  took 
his  ee  aff  them,  or  said  another  word,  or  gave  another  glance 
at  the  Bonspiel,  though  there  was  the  finest  fun  amang  the 
curlers  ever  was  seen — and  he  turned  round  and  gaed  aff 
the  loch  by  the  kirk-stile  through  Woodbourne  fir-plantings, 
and  we  saw  nae  mair  o'  him.' 

'Only  think.'  said  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  'what  a  hard  heart 
he  maun  hae  had,  to  think  o'  hurting  the  poor  young  gentle- 
man in  the  very  presence  of  the  leddy  he  was  to  be  mar- 
ried to !' 

'Oh,  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,'  said  Glossin,  'there's  been  many 
cases  such  as  that  on  the  record:  doubtless  he  was  seeking 
revenge  where  it  would  be  deepest  and  sweetest.' 


GUY    MANNERING  245 

'God  pity  us!'  said  Deacon  Bearcliff;  'we're  puir  frail 
creatures  when  left  to  oursells ! — aye,  he  forgot  wha  said, 
"Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay  it." ' 

'Weel,  aweel,  sirs,'  said  Jabos,  whose  hard-headed  and 
uncultivated  shrewdness  seemed  sometimes  to  start  the  game 
when  others  beat  the  bush — 'weel,  weel,  ye  may  be  a'  mista'en 
yet — I'll  never  believe  that  a  man  would  lay  a  plan  to  shoot 
another  wi'  his  ain  gun.  Lord  help  ye,  I  was  the  keeper's 
assistant  down  at  the  Isle  mysell.  and  I'll  uphaud  it,  the 
biggest  man  in  Scotland  shouldna  take  a  gun  frae  me  or  I 
had  weized  the  slugs  through  him,  though  I'm  but  sic  a  little 
feckless  body,  fit  for  naething  but  the  outside  o'  a  saddle  and 
the  fore-end  o'  a  poschay — na,  na,  nae  living  man  wad  ven- 
ture on  that.  I'll  wad  my  best  buckskins,  and  they  were  new 
coft  at  Kircudbright  fair,  it's  been  a  chance  job  after  a'. 
But  if  ye  hae  naething  mair  to  say  to  me,  I  am  thinking,  I 
maun  gang  and  see  my  beasts  fed' and  he  departed  ac- 
cordingly. 

The  hostler,  who  had  accompanied  him.  gave  evidence  to 
the  same  purpose.  He  and  Mrs.  IVIac-Candlish  were  then 
re-interrogated  whether  Brown  had  no  arms  with  him  on  that 
unhappy  morning.  'None,'  they  said,  'but  an  ordinary  big 
cutlass  or  hanger  by  his  side.' 

'Now,'  said  the  Deacon,  taking  Glossin  by  the  button  (for, 
in  considering  this  intricate  subject,  he  had  forgot  Glossin's 
new  accession  of  rank) — 'this  is  but  doubtfu'  after  a',  Maistcr 
Gilbert — for  it  was  not  sae  dooms  likely  that  he  would  go 
down  into  battle  wi'  sic  sma'  means.' 

Glossin  extricated  himself  from  the  Deacon's  grasp,  and 
from  the  discussion,  though  not  with  rudeness;  for  it  was 
his  present  interest  to  buy  golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of 
people.  He  inquired  the  price  of  tea  and  sugar,  and  spoke 
of  providing  himself  for  the  year;  he  gave  Mrs.  Mac-Cand- 
lish  directions  to  have  a  handsome  entertainment  in  readiness 
for  a  party  of  five  friends,  whom  he  intended  to  invite  to 
dine  with  him  at  the  'Gordon  Arms'  next  Saturday  week; 
and,  lastly,  he  gave  a  half-crown  to  Jock  Jabos,  whom  the 
hostler  had  deputed  to  hold  his  steed. 

'Weel,'  said  the  Deacon  to  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish,  as  he 
accepted  her  offer  of  a  glass  of  bitters  at  the  bar.  'the  deil's 


246 


SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 


no  sae  ill  as  he  's  ca'd.  It's  pleasant  to  see  a  gentleman  pay 
the  regard  to  the  business  o'  the  county  that  ^Mr.  Glossin 
does.' 

'Aye,  'deed  is  't,  Deacon/  answered  the  landlady;  'and 
yet  I  wonder  our  gentry  leave  their  ain  wark  to  the  like 
o'  him. — But  as  lang  as  siller  's  current,  Deacon,  folk 
mauna  look  ower  nicely  at  what  king's  head  's  on't.' 

'I  doubt  Glossin  will  prove  but  shand '  after  a',  mistress,' 
said  Jabos,  as  he  passed  through  the  little  lobby  beside  the 
bar;  'but  this  is  a  gude  half-crown  ony  way.' 

*  Cant   expression    for   base   coin. 


I 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

A  man  that  apprehends  death  to  be  no  more  dreadful  but  as  a 
drunken  sleep ;  careless,  reckless,  and  fearless  of  what's  past,  present, 
or  to  come,  insensible  of  mortality,  and  desperately  mortal. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

GLOSSIN  had  made  careful  minutes  cf  the  information 
•  derived  from  these  examinations.  They  threw  little 
light  upon  the  story,  so  far  as  he  understood  its 
purport ;  but  the  better  ixiformed  reader  has  received,  through 
means  of  this  investigation,  an  account  of  Brown's  proceed- 
ings, between  the  moment  when  we  left  him  upon  his  walk  to 
Kippletringan,  and  the  time  when,  stung  by  jealousy,  he 
so  rashly  and  unhappily  presented  himself  before  Julia 
Mannering,  and  wellnigh  brought  to  a  fatal  termination  the 
quarrel  which  his  appearance  occasioned. 

Glossin  rode  slowly  back  to  Ellangowan  pondering  on 
what  he  had  heard,  and  more  and  more  convinced  that  the 
active  and  successful  prosecution  of  this  mysterious  business 
was  an  opportunity  of  ingratiating  himself  with  Hazlewood 
and  Mannering,  to  be  on  no  account  neglected.  Perhaps, 
also,  he  felt  his  professional  acuteness  interested  in  bringing 
it  to  a  successful  close.  It  was.  therefore,  with  great  pleasure 
that  on  his  return  to  his  house  from  Kippletringan,  he  heard 
his  servants  announce  hastily,  'that  Mac-Guffog.  the  thief- 
taker,  and  twa  or  three  concurrents,  had  a  man  in  hands  in 
the  kitchen  waiting  for  his  honour.' 

He  instantly  jumped  from  horseback,  and  hastened  into 
the  house.  "Send  my  clerk  here  directly;  ye'll  find  him 
copying  the  survey  of  the  estate  in  the  little  green  parlour. 
Set  things  to  rights  in  my  study,  and  wheel  the  great 
leathern  chair  up  to  the  writing-table — set  a  stool  for  Mr. 
Scrow. — Scrow'  (to  the  clerk  as  he  entered  the  presence- 
chamber),  'hand  down  Sir  George  Mackenzie  on  Crimes: 
open  it  at  the  section  Vis  Publica  et  Prirata,  and  fold  down 
a    leaf    at    the    passage    "anent    the    bearing    of    unlawful 

247 


248  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

weapons."  Now  lend  me  a  hand  off  with  my  muckle-coat 
and  hang  it  up  in  the  lobby,  and  bid  them  bring  up  the 
prisoner— I  trow  I'll  sort  him;— but  stay— first  send  up 
Mac-Guffog.— Now,  Mac-Guffog,  where  did  ye  find  this 
chield?' 

Mac-Guffog,  a  stout  bandy-legged  fellow,  with  a  neck  like 
a  bull,  a  face  like  a  firebrand,  and  a  most  portentous  squint 
of  the  left  eye,  began,  after  various  contortions  by  way  of 
courtesy  to  the  Justice,  to  tell  his  story,  eking  it  out  by 
sundry  sly  nods  and  knowing  winks,  which  appeared  to  be- 
speak an  intimate  correspondence  of  ideas  between  the 
narrator  and  his  principal  auditor.  'Your  honour  sees  I 
went  down  to  yon  place  that  your  honour  spoke  o',  that's 
kept  by  her  that  your  honour  kens  o'  by  the  sea-side.— So 
says  she,  what  are  you  wanting  here?  ye'll  be  come  wi' 
a  broom  in  your  pocket  frae  Ellangowan? — So  says  I,  deil 
a  broom  will  come  frae  there  awa,  for  ye  ken,  says  I,  his 
honour  Ellangowan  himsell  in  former  times ' 

'Well,  well,'  said  Glossin,  'no  occasion  to  be  particular — 
tell  the  essentials.' 

'Weel,  so  we  sat  niffering  about  some  brandy  that  I  said 
I  wanted,  till  he  came  in.' 

'Who?' 

'He,'  pointing  with  his  thumb  inverted  to  the  kitchen, 
where  the  prisoner  was  in  custody.  'So  he  had  his  griego 
wrapped  close  round  him,  and  I  judged  he  was  not  dry- 
handed' — so  I  thought  it  was  best  to  speak  proper,  and  so 
he  believed  I  was  a  Manks  man,  and  I  kept  ay  between  him 
and  her,  for  fear  she  had  whistled.^  And  then  we  began 
to  drink  about,  and  then  I  betted  he  would  not  drink  out 
a  quartern  of  Hollands  without  drawing  breath — and  then 
he  tried  it — and  just  then  Slounging  Jock  and  Dick  Spur'em 
came  in,  and  we  clinked  the  darbies'  on  him,  took  him  as 
quiet  as  a  lamb — and  now  he's  had  his  bit  sleep  out,  and  is  as 
fresh  as  a  May  gowan  to  answer  what  your  honour  likes  to 
speir.'  This  narrative,  delivered  with  a  wonderful  quantity 
of  gesture  and  grimace,  received  at  the  conclusion  the  thanks 
and  praises  which  the  narrator  expected. 

'  Unarmed.  ^  Given  information  to  the   party  concerned. 

3  Handcuffs. 


GUY    MANNERING  249 

'Had  he  no  arms?'  asked  the  Justice. 

'Aye,  aye,  they  are  never  without  barkers  and  slashers.' 

'Any  papers?' 

'This  bundle,'  delivering  a  dirty  pocket-book. 

'Go  downstairs,  then,  Mac-Guffog,  and  be  in  waiting.'  The 
officer  left  the  room. 

The  clink  of  irons  was  immediately  afterwards  heard  upon 
the  stair,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  a  man  was  introduced, 
handcuffed  and  fettered.  He  was  thick,  brawny,  and 
muscular,  and  although  his  shagged  and  grizzled  hair  marked 
an  age  somewhat  advanced,  and  his  stature  was  rather  low, 
he  appeared,  nevertheless,  a  person  whom  few  would  have 
chosen  to  cope  with  in  personal  conflict.  His  coarse  and 
savage  features  were  still  flushed,  and  his  eye  still  reeled 
under  the  influence  of  the  strong  potation  which  had  proved 
the  immediate  cause  of  his  seizure.  But  the  sleep,  though 
short,  which  Mac-Guffog  had  allowed  him,  and  still  more  a 
sense  of  the  peril  of  his  situation,  had  restored  to  him  the 
full  use  of  his  faculties.  The  worthy  judge,  and  the  no  less 
estimable  captive,  looked  at  each  other  steadily  for  a  long 
time  without  speaking.  Glossin  apparently  recognized  his 
prisoner,  but  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed  with  his 
investigation.  At  length  he  broke  silence.  "Soh.  Captain,  this 
is  you? — you  have  been  a  stranger  on  this  coast  for  some 
years.' 

'Stranger !'  replied  the  other ;  'strange  enough.  T  think — 
for  hold  me  der  deyvil,  if  I  been  ever  here  before.' 

'That  won't  pass,  Mr.  Captain.' 

'That  must  pas.s,  Mr.  Justice — sapperment !' 

'And  who  v^'ill  you  be  pleased  to  call  yourself,  then,  for 
the  present,'  said  filossin,  'just  until  I  shall  bring  some  other 
folks  to  refresh  your  memory  concerning  who  you  are,  or  at 
least  who  you  have  been  ?' 

'What  bin  I  ?— donner  and  blitzen !  I  bin  Jans  Janson,  from 
Cuxhaven — what  sail  Ich  bin  ?' 

Glossin  took  from  a  case  which  was  in  the  apartment  a 
pair  of  small  pocket  pistols,  which  he  loaded  with  ostenta- 
tious care.  'You  may  retire,'  said  he  to  his  clerk,  'and 
carry  the  people  with  you,  Scrow — but  wait  in  the  lobby 
within  call.' 


250  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

The  clerk  would  have  offered  some  remonstrances  to  his 
patron  on  the  danger  of  remaining  alone  with  such  a  des- 
perate character,  ahhough  ironed  beyond  the  possibiHty  of 
active  exertion,  but  Glossin  waved  him  off  impatiently. 
When  he  had  left  the  room,  the  Justice  took  two  short  turns 
through  the  apartment,  then  drew  his  chair  opposite  to  the 
prisoner,  so  as  to  confront  him  fully,  placed  the  pistols 
before  him  in  readiness,  and  said  in  a  steady  voice,  'You  are 
Dirk  Hatteraick  of  Flushing,  are  you  not?' 

The  prisoner  turned  his  eye  instinctively  to  the  door,  as 
if  he  apprehended  some  one  was  listening.  Glossin  rose, 
opened  the  door,  so  that  from  the  chair  in  which  his  prisoner 
sat  he  might  satisfy  himself  there  was  no  eavesdropper 
within  hearing,  then  shut  it.  resumed  his  seat,  and  repeated 
his  question — 'You  are  Dirk  Hatteraick.  formerly  of  the 
Yungfrauw  Haagcnslaapcn,  are  you  not?' 

'Tousand  deyvils ! — and  if  you  know  that,  why  ask  me?' 
said  the  prisoner. 

'Because  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  in  the  very  last  place 
where  you  ought  to  be,  if  you  regard  your  safety,'  observed 
Glossin,  coolly. 

'Der  deyvil ! — no  man  regards  his  own  safety  that  speaks 
so  to  me !' 

'What?  unarmed,  and  in  irons! — well  said,  Captain!'  re- 
plied Glossin,  ironically.  'But,  Captain,  bullying  won't  do — 
you'll  hardly  get  out  of  this  country  without  accounting  for 
a  little  accident  that  happened  at  Warroch  Point  a  few 
years  ago.' 

Hatteraick's  looks  grew  black  as  midnight. 

'For  my  part,'  continued  Glossin,  'I  have  no  particular 
wish  to  be  hard  upon  an  old  acquaintance — but  I  must  do 
my  duty — I  shall  send  you  off  to  Edinburgh  in  a  post-chaise 
and  four  this  very  day.' 

'Poz  donner !  you  would  not  do  that?'  said  Hatteraick, 
in  a  lower  and  more  humbled  tone ;  'why,  you  had  the  matter 
of  half  a  cargo  in  bills  on  Vanbeest  and  Vanbruggen.' 

'It  is  so  long  since.  Captain  Hatteraick,'  answered  Glossin, 
superciliously,  'that  I  really  forget  how  I  was  recompensed 
for  my  trouble.' 

'Your  trouble?  your  silence,  you  mean.' 


\ 
I 


GUY    MANXERIXG  3.51 

'It  was  an  affair  in  the  course  of  business,'  said  Glossin, 
'and  I  have  retired  from  business  for  some  time.' 

"Aye,  but  I  have  a  notion  that  I  could  make  you  go 
steady  about,  and  try  the  old  course  again,'  answered 
Dirk  Hatteraick.  'Why,  man,  hold  me  der  deyvil,  but  I 
meant  to  visit  you,  and  tell  you  something  that  concerns 
you.' 

'Of  the  boy?'  said  Glossin,  eagerly. 

'Yaw,  Mynheer,'  replied  the  Captain,  coolly. 

'He  does  not  live,  does  he?' 

"As  lifelich  as  you  or  I,'  said  Hatteraick. 

'Good  God  ! — But  in  India  !'  exclaimed  Glossin. 

']SIo — tousand  deyvils !  here — on  this  dirty  coast  of  yours,' 
rejoined  the  prisoner. 

'But.  Hatteraick,  this, — that  is,  if  it  be  true,  which  I  do 
not  believe, — this  will  ruin  us  both,  for  he  cannot  but  re- 
member your  neat  job;  and  for  me — it  will  be  productive  of 
the  worst  consequences !     It  will  ruin  us  both,  I  tell  you.' 

'I  tell  you,'  said  the  seaman,  'it  will  ruin  none  but  you — 
for  I  am  done  up  already,  and  if  I  must  strap  for  it,  all 
shall  out.' 

'Zounds!'  said  the  Justice,  impatiently,  'what  brought  you 
back  to  this  coast  like  a  madman?' 

'Why.  all  the  gelt  was  gone,  and  the  house  was  shaking, 
and  I  thought  the  job  was  clayed  over  and  forgotten,'  an- 
swered the  worthy  skipper. 

"Stay — what  can  be  done?'  said  Glossin,  anxiously.  'I 
dare  not  discharge  you — but  might  you  not  be  rescued  in  the 
way — aye  sure?  a  word  to  Lieutenant  Brown, — and  I  would 
send  the  people  with  you  by  the  coast-road.' 

'No,  no  !  that  won't  do — Brown's  dead — shot — laid  in  the 
locker,  man — the  devil  has  the  picking  of  him.' 

'Dead?  —  shot?  —  at  Woodbourne,  I  suppose?'  replied 
Glossin. 

'Yaw,  Mynheer.' 

Glossin  paused — the  sweat  broke  upon  his  brow  with  the 
agony  of  his  feelings,  while  the  hard-featured  miscreant  who 
sat  opposite,  coolly  rolled  his  tobacco  in  his  cheek,  and 
squirted  the  juice  into  the  fire-grate.  'It  would  be  ruin/  said 
Glossin  to   himself,   "absolute   ruin,   if   the   heir   should  re- 


252  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

appear — and  then  what  might  be  the  consequence  of  con- 
niving with  these  men? — yet  there  is  so  Httle  time  to  take 
measures. — Hark  you,  Hatteraick;  I  can't  set  you  at  liberty 

but  I  can  put  you  where  you  may  set  yourself  at  liberty 

— I  always  like  to  assist  an  old  friend.  I  shall  confine  you 
in  the  old  castle  for  to-night,  and  give  these  people  double 
allowance  of  grog.  Mac-Guffog  will  fall  in  the  trap  in 
which  he  caught  you.  The  stanchions  on  the  window  of  the 
strong  room,  as  they  call  it,  are  wasted  to  pieces,  and  it  is 
not  above  twelve  feet  from  the  level  of  the  ground  without, 
and  the  snow  lies  thick.' 

'But  the  darbies,'  said  Hatteraick,  looking  upon  his  fetters. 

'Hark  ye,'  said  Glossin,  going  to  a  tool  chest,  and  taking 
out  a  small  file,  'there's  a  friend  for  you,  and  you  know 
the  road  to  the  sea  by  the  stairs.' 

Hatteraick  shook  his  chains  in  ecstasy,  as  if  he  were 
already  at  liberty,  and  strove  to  extend  his  fettered  hand 
towards  his  protector.  Glossin  laid  his  finger  upon  his  lips 
with  a  cautious  glance  at  the  door,  and  then  proceeded  in 
his  instructions.  'When  you  escape,  you  had  better  go  to 
the  Kaim  of  Deincleugh.' 

'Donner  !  that  howff  is  blown.' 

'The  devil ! — well,  then,  you  may  steal  my  skiff  that  lies 
on  the  beach  there,  and  away.  But  you  must  remain  snug 
at  the  Point  of  Warroch  till  I  come  to  see  you.' 

'The  Point  of  Warroch?'  said  Hatteraick,  his  countenance 
again  falling — 'what,  in  the  cave,  I  suppose  ? — I  would  rather 
it  were  anywhere  else ; — es  spuckt  da ! — they  say  for  certain 
that  he  walks. — But,  donner  and  blitzen !  I  never  shunned 
him  alive,  and  I  won't  shun  him  dead. — Strafe  mich  helle ! 
it  shall  never  be  said  Dirk  Hatteraick  feared  either  dog  or 
devil ! — So  I  am  to  wait  there  till  I  see  you  ?' 

'Aye,  aye,'  answered  Glossin,  'and  now  I  must  call  in  the 
men.'    He  did  so  accordingly. 

'I  can  make  nothing  of  Captain  Janson,  as  he  calls  him- 
self, Mac-Guffog,  and  it's  now  too  late  to  bundle  him  off  to 
the  county  jail.  Is  there  not  a  strong  room  up  yonder  in  the 
old  castle  ?' 

'Aye  is  there,  sir ;  my  uncle  the  constable  ance  kept  a 
man  there  for  three  days  in  auld  EUangowan's  time.     But 


1 


GUY    MANNERIXG  253 

there  was  an  unco  dust  about  it — it  was  tried  in  the  Inner- 
house  afore  the  fcifteen.' 

'I  know  all  that,  but  this  person  will  not  stay  there  very 
long — it's  only  a  makeshift  for  a  night — a  mere  lock-up 
house  till  further  examination.  There  is  a  small  room 
through  which  it  opens ;  you  may  light  a  fire  for  yourselves 
there,  and  I'll  send  you  plenty  of  stuff  to  make  you  com- 
fortable. But  be  sure  you  lock  the  door  upon  the  prisoner ; 
and,  hark  ye,  let  him  have  a  fire  in  the  strong  room  too — 
the  season  requires  it.  Perhaps  he'll  make  a  clean  breast 
to-morrow.' 

With  these  instructions,  and  with  a  large  allowance  of 
food  and  liquor,  the  Justice  dismissed  his  party  to  keep 
guard  for  the  night  in  the  old  castle,  under  the  full  hope  and 
belief  that  they  would  neither  spend  the  night  in  watching 
nor  prayer. 

There  was  little  fear  that  Glossin  himself  should  that 
night  sleep  over-sound.  His  situation  was  perilous  in  the 
extreme,  for  the  schemes  of  a  life  of  villany  seemed  at  once 
to  be  crumbling  around  and  above  him.  He  laid  him- 
self to  rest,  and  tossed  upon  his  pillow  for  a  long  time  in 
vain. 

At  length  he  fell  asleep,  but  it  was  only  to  dream  of  his 
patron, — now,  as  he  had  last  seen  him,  with  the  paleness  of 
death  upon  his  features,  then  again  transformed  into  all 
the  vigour  and  comeliness  of  youth,  approaching  to  expel 
him  from  the  mansion-house  of  his  fathers.  Then  he 
dreamed,  that  after  wandering  long  over  a  wild  heath,  he 
came  at  length  to  an  inn,  from  which  sounded  the  voice  of 
revelry;  and  that  when  he  entered,  the  first  person  he  met 
was  Frank  Kennedy,  all  smashed  and  gory,  as  he  had  lain 
on  the  beach  at  Warroch  Point,  but  with  a  reeking  punch- 
bowl in  his  hand.  Then  the  scene  changed  to  a  dungeon, 
where  he  heard  Dirk  Hatteraick,  whom  he  imagined  to  be 
under  sentence  of  death,  confessing  his  crimes  to  a  clergy- 
man.— 'After  the  blopdy  deed  was  done,'  said  the  penitent, 
'we  retreated  into  a  cave  close  beside,  the  secret  of  which 
was  known  but  to  one  man  in  the  country ;  we  were  debating 
what  to  do  with  the  child,  and  we  thought  of  giving  it  up 
to  the  gipsies,   when   we  heard  the  cries  of  the   pursuers 


254  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

hallooing  to  each  other.  One  man  alone  came  straight  to 
our  cave,  and  it  was  that  man  who  knew  the  secret — but 
we  made  him  our  friend  at  the  expense  of  half  the  value  of 
the  goods  saved.  By  his  advice  we  carried  off  the  child  to 
Holland  in  our  consort,  which  came  the  following  night  to 
take  us  from  the  coast.    That  man  was ' 

'No,  I  deny  it ! — it  was  not  I !'  said  Glossin,  in  half -uttered 
accents ;  and,  struggling  in  his  agony  to  express  his  denial 
more  distinctly,  he  awoke. 

It  was,  however,  conscience  that  had  prepared  this  mental 
phantasmagoria.  The  truth  was,  that  knowing  much  better 
than  any  other  person  the  haunts  of  the  smugglers,  he  had, 
while  the  others  were  searching  in  different  directions,  gone 
straight  to  the  cave,  even  before  he  had  learned  the  murder 
of  Kennedy,  whom  he  expected  to  find  their  prisoner.  He 
came  upon  them  with  some  idea  of  mediation,  but  found 
them  in  the  midst  of  their  guilty  terrors,  while  the  rage, 
which  had  hurried  them  on  to  murder,  began,  with  all  but 
Hatteraick,  to  sink  into  remorse  and  fear.  Glossin  was  then 
indigent,  and  greatly  in  debt,  but  he  was  already  possessed  of 
Mr.  Bertram's  ear.  and,  aware  of  the  facility  of  his  disposi- 
tion, he  saw  no  difficulty  in  enriching  himself  at  his  expense, 
provided  the  heir-male  were  removed;  in  which  case  the 
estate  became  the  unlimited  property  of  the  weak  and  prodi- 
gal father.  Stimulated  by  present  gain  and  the  prospect  of 
contingent  advantage,  he  accepted  the  bribe  which  the 
smugglers  offered  in  their  terror,  and  connived  at,  or  rather 
encouraged,  their  intention  of  carrying  away  the  child  of  his 
benefactor,  who,  if  left  behind,  was  old  enough  to  have 
described  the  scene  of  blood  which  he  had  witnessed.  The 
only  palliative  which  the  ingenuity  of  Glossin  could  offer  to 
his  conscience  was,  that  the  temptation  was  great,  and  came 
suddenly  upon  him,  embracing  as  it  were  the  very  advantages 
on  which  his  mind  had  so  long  rested,  and  promising  to 
relieve  him  from  distresses  which  must  have  otherwise 
speedily  overwhelmed  him.  Besides,  he  endeavoured  to  think 
that  self-preservation  rendered  his  conduct  necessary.  He 
was,  in  some  degree,  in  the  power  of  the  robbers,  and  pleaded 
hard  with  his  conscience,  that,  had  he  declined  their  offers, 
the  assistance  which  he  could  have  called  for,  though  not  dis- 


GUY    MAXNERING  255 

tant.  might  not  have  arrived  in  time  to  save  him  from  men 
who,  on  less  provocation,  had  just  committed  murder. 

Galled  with  the  anxious  forebodings  of  a  guilty  conscience, 
Glossin  now  arose,  and  looked  out  upon  the  night.  The 
scene  which  we  have  already  described  in  the  third  chapter 
of  this  story,  was  now  covered  with  snow,  and  the  brilliant, 
though  waste,  whiteness  of  the  land,  gave  to  the  sea  by 
contrast  a  dark  and  livid  tinge.  A  landscape  covered  with 
snow,  though  abstractedly  it  may  be  called  beautiful,  has, 
both  from  the  association  of  cold  and  barrenness,  and  from 
its  comparative  infrequency,  a  wild,  strange,  and  desolate 
appearance.  Objects,  well  known  to  us  in  their  common  state, 
have  either  disappeared,  or  are  so  strangely  varied  and  dis- 
guised, that  we  seem  gazing  on  an  unknown  world.  But  it 
was  not  with  such  reflections  that  the  mind  of  this  bad  man 
was  occupied.  His  eye  was  upon  the  gigantic  and  gloomy 
outlines  of  the  old  castle,  where,  in  a  flanking  tower  of 
enormous  size  and  thickness,  glimmered  two  lights, — one 
from  the  window  of  the  strong  room  where  Hatteraick  was 
confined,  the  other  from  that  of  the  adjacent  apartment 
occupied  by  his  keepers.  'Has  he  made  his  escape,  or  will  he 
be  able  to  do  so? — Have  these  men  watched,  who  never 
watched  before,  in  order  to  complete  my  ruin? — If  morn- 
ing finds  him  there,  he  must  be  committed  to  prison ; 
Mac-Morlan  or  some  other  person  will  take  the  matter 
up — he  will  be  detected — convicted — and  will  tell  all  in 
revenge  !' 


While  these  racking  thoughts  glided  rapidly  through 
Glossin's  mind,  he  observed  one  of  the  lights  obscured,  as 
by  an  opaque  body  placed  at  the  window.  What  a  moment 
of  interest ! — 'He  has  got  clear  of  his  irons ! — he  is  work- 
ing at  the  stanchions  of  the  window — they  are  surely  quite 
decayed,  they  must  give  way — O  God !  they  have  fallen 
outward ;  I  heard  them  clink  among  the  stones ! — the  noise 
cannot  fail  to  wake  them — furies  seize  his  Dutch  awkward- 
ness— The  light  burns  free  again — they  have  torn  him 
from  the  window,  and  are  binding  him  in  the  room ! — No ! 
he  had  only  retired  an  instant  on  the  alarm  of  the  falling 
bars — he  is  at  the  window  again — and  the  light  is  quite 
obscured  now — he  is  getting  out !' 


256  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

A  heavy  sound,  as  of  a  body  dropped  from  a  height  among 
the  snow,  announced  that  Hatteraick  had  completed  his 
escape,  and  shortly  after  Glossin  beheld  a  dark  figure,  like 
a  shadow,  steal  along  the  whitened  beach,  and  reach  the 
spot  where  the  skiff  lay.  New  cause  for  fear ! — 'His  single 
strength  will  be  unable  to  float  her,'  said  Glossin  to  himself 
— 'I  must  go  to  the  rascal's  assistance.  But  no !  he  has  got 
her  off,  and  now,  thank  God  !  her  sail  is  spreading  itself 
against  the  moon — aye,  he  has  got  the  breeze  now — would 
to  heaven  it  were  a  tempest,  to  sink  him  to  the  bottom !' 

After  this  last  cordial  wish,  he  continued  watching  the 
progress  of  the  boat  as  it  stood  away  towards  the  Point  of 
Warroch,  until  he  could  no  longer  distinguish  the  dusky 
sail  from  the  gloomy  waves  over  which  it  glided.  Satisfied 
then  that  the  immediate  danger  was  averted,  he  retired  with 
somewhat  more  composure  to  his  guilty  pillow. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

Why  dost  not  comfort  me,  and  help  me  out 
From  this  unhallowed  and  blood-stained  hole  ? 

Titus  Andronidus. 

ON  the  next  morning,  great  was  the  alarm  and  confusion 
of  the  ofificers  when  they  discovered  the  escape  of  their 
prisoner.  Mac-Guffog  appeared  before  Glossin  with  a 
head  perturbed  with  brandy  and  fear,  and  incurred  a  most 
severe  reprimand  for  neglect  of  duty.  The  resentment  of  the 
Justice  appeared  only  to  be  suspended  by  his  anxiety  to 
recover  possession  of  the  prisoner,  and  the  thief-takers,  glad 
to  escape  from  his  awful  and  incensed  presence,  were  sent 
off  in  every  direction  (except  the  right  one)  to  recover  their 
prisoner,  if  possible.  Glossin  particularly  recommended  a 
careful  search  at  the  Kaim  of  Derncleugh.  which  was  occa- 
sionally occupied  under  night  by  vagrants  of  different  de- 
scriptions. Having  thus  dispersed  his  myrmidons  in  various 
directions,  he  himself  hastened  by  devious  paths  through  the 
Wood  of  Warroch,  to  his  appointed  interview  with  Hat- 
teraick.  from  whom  he  hoped  to  learn,  at  more  leisure  than 
last  night's  conference  admitted,  the  circumstances  attending 
the  return  of  the  heir  of  Ellangowan  to  his  native  country. 

With  manoeuvres  like  those  of  a  fox  when  he  doubles  to 
avoid  the  pack,  Glossin  strove  to  approach  the  place  of  ap- 
pointment in  a  manner  which  should  leave  no  distinct  track 
of  his  course.  'Would  to  Heaven  it  would  snow,'  he  said, 
looking  upward,  'and  hide  these  foot-prints.  Should  one  of 
the  officers  light  upon  them,  he  would  run  the  scent  up  like 
a  blood-hound,  and  surprise  us.  I  must  got  down  upon  the 
sea-beach,  and  contrive  to  creep  along  beneath  the  rocks.' 

And  accordingly  he  descended  from  the  cliffs  with  some 
difficulty,  and  scrambled  along  between  the  rocks  and  the 
advancing  tide ;  now  looking  up  to  see  if  his  motions  were 
watched  from  the  rocks  above  him.  now  casting  a  jealous 
glance  to  mark  if  any  boat  appeared  upon  the  sea,  from 
which  his  course  might  be  discovered. 

257 


258  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

But  even  the  feelings  of  selfish  apprehension  were  for  a 
time  superseded,  as  Glossin  passed  the  spot  where  Kennedy's 
body  had  been  found.  It  was  marked  by  the  fragment  of 
a  rock  which  had  been  precipitated  from  the  cliff  above, 
either  with  the  body  or  after  it.  The  mass  was  now  en- 
crusted with  small  shell-fish,  and  tasselled  with  tangle  and 
sea-weed;  but  still  its  shape  and  substance  were  different 
from  those  of  the  other  rocks  which  lay  scattered  around. 
His  voluntary  walks,  it  will  readily  be  believed,  had  never 
led  to  this  spot;  so  that  finding  himself  now  there  for  the 
first  time  after  the  terrible  catastrophe,  the  scene  at  once 
recurred  to  his  mind  with  all  its  accompaniments  of  horror. 
He  remembered  how,  like  a  guilty  thing,  gliding  from  the 
neighbouring  place  of  concealment,  he  had  mingled  with 
eagerness,  yet  with  caution,  among  the  terrified  group  who 
surrounded  the  corpse,  dreading  lest  any  one  should  ask 
from  whence  he  came.  He  remembered,  too,  with  what 
conscious  fear  he  had  avoided  gazing  upon  that  ghastly 
spectacle.  The  wild  scream  of  his  patron,  'My  bairn !  my 
bairn !'  again  rang  in  his  ears.  'Good  God !'  he  exclaimed, 
'and  is  all  I  have  gained  worth  the  agony  of  that  moment, 
and  the  thousand  anxious  fears  and  horrors  which  have 
since  embittered  my  life? — Oh,  how  I  wish  that  I  lay  where 
that  wretched  man  lies,  and  that  he  stood  here  in  life  and 
health !     But  these  regrets  are  all  too  late.' 

Stifling,  therefore,  his  feelings,  he  crept  forward  to  the 
cave,  which  was  so  near  the  spot  where  the  body  was  found, 
that  the  smugglers  might  have  heard  from  their  hiding-place 
the  various  conjectures  of  the  bystanders  concerning  the 
fate  of  their  victim.  But  nothing  could  be  more  completely 
concealed  than  the  entrance  to  their  asylum.  The  opening, 
not  larger  than  that  of  a  fox-earth,  lay  in  the  face  of  the 
cliff  directly  behind  a  large  black  rock,  or  rather  upright 
stone,  which  served  at  once  to  conceal  it  from  strangers, 
and  as  a  mark  to  point  out  its  situation  to  those  who  used 
it  as  a  place  of  retreat.  The  space  between  the  stone  and 
the  cliff  was  exceedingly  narrow,  and  being  heaped  with 
sand  and  other  rubbish,  the  most  minute  search  would  not 
have  discovered  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  without  removing 
those  substances  which  the  tide  had  drifted  before  it.    For 


GUY    MANNERING  259 

the  purpose  of  further  conceahuent,  it  was  usual  with  the 
contraband  traders  who  frequented  this  haunt,  after  they 
had  entered,  to  stuff  the  mouth  with  withered  seaweed, 
loosely  piled  together  as  if  carried  there  by  the  waves. 
Dirk  Hatteraick  had  not  forgotten  this  precaution. 

Glossin,  though  a  bold  and  hardy  man,  felt  his  heart  throb 
and  his  knees  knock  together,  when  he  prepared  to  enter 
this  den  of  secret  iniquity,  in  order  to  hold  conference  with 
a  felon,  whom  he  justly  accounted  one  of  the  most  desperate 
and  depraved  of  men.  'But  he  has  no  interest  to  injure 
me,'  was  his  consolatory  reflection.  He  examined  his  pocket- 
pistols,  however,  before  removing  the  weeds  and  entering 
the  cavern,  which  he  did  upon  hands  and  knees.  The  pas- 
sage, which  at  first  was  low  and  narrow,  just  admitting 
entrance  to  a  man  in  a  creeping  posture,  expanded  after  a 
few  yards  into  a  high  arched  vault  of  considerable  width. 
The  bottom,  ascending  gradually,  was  covered  with  the 
purest  sand.  Ere  Glossin  had  got  upon  his  feet,  the  hoarse 
yet  suppressed  voice  of  Hatteraick  growled  through  the 
recesses  of  the  cave. 

'Hagel  and  donner  ! — be'st  du  ?' 

'Are  you  in  the  dark?' 

'Dark?  der  deyvil !  aye,'  said  Dirk  Hatteraick:  'where 
should  I  have  a  glim?' 

'I  have  brought  light;'  and  Glossin  accordingly  produced 
a  tinder-box,  and  lighted  a  small  lantern. 

'You  must  kindle  some  fire  too,  for  hold  mich  der  deyvil. 
Ich  bin  ganz  gefrorne  !' 

'It  is  a  cold  place,  to  be  sure,'  said  Glossin.  gathering 
together  some  decayed  staves  of  barrels  and  pieces  of  wood 
which  had  perhaps  lain  in  the  cavern  since  Hatteraick  was 
there  last. 

'Cold  ?  Snow-wasser  and  hagel !  it's  perdition — T  could 
only  keep  myself  alive  by  rambling  up  and  down  this  d — d 
vault,  and  thinking  about  the  merry  rouses  we  have  had  in  it.' 

The  flame  then  began  to  blaze  brightly,  and  Hatteraick 
hung  his  bronzed  visage,  and  expanded  his  hard  and  sinewy 
hands  over  it,  with  an  avidity  resembling  that  of  a  famished 
wretch  to  whom  food  is  exposed.  The  light  showed  his 
savage   and   stern    features,   and   the   smoke,   which   in   his 


260  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

agony  of  cold  he  seemed  to  endure  almost  to  suffocation, 
after  circling  round  his  head,  rose  to  the  dim  and  rugged 
roof  of  the  cave,  through  which  it  escaped  by  some  secret 
rents  or  clefts  in  the  rock;  the  same  doubtless  that  afforded 
air  to  the  cavern  when  the  tide  was  in,  at  which  time  the 
aperture  to  the  sea  was  filled  with  water. 

'And  now  I  have  brought  you  some  breakfast,'  said  Glossin, 
producing  some  cold  meat  and  a  flask  of  spirits.  The  latter 
Hatteraick  eagerly  seized  upon,  and  applied  to  his  mouth ; 
and,  after  a  hearty  draught,  he  exclaimed,  with  great 
rapture,  'Das  schmeckt ! — that  is  good — that  warms  the 
liver!'    Then  broke  into  the  fragment  of  a  High-Dutch  song. 

Saufen  Bier,  und  Brante-wein, 

Schmeissen  alle  die  Fenstern  ein; 

Ich    ben    liederlich, 

Du  bist  liederlich ; 

Sind   wir   nicht   liederlich   Leute   a ! 

'Well  said,  my  hearty  Captain !'  cried  Glossin,  endeavour- 
ing to  catch  the  tone  of  revelry, — 

Gin  by  pailfuls,  wine  in  rivers. 
Dash  the  window-glass  to  shivers ! 

For  three  wild  lads  were  we,  brave  boys, 

And   three  wild  lads  were  we; 

Thou  on  the  land,  and  I  on  the  sand, 

And  Jack  on  the  gallows-tree  ! 

That's  it,  my  bully-boy  !  Why,  you're  alive  again  now !  And 
now  let  us  talk  about  our  business.' 

'Your  business,  if  you  please,'  said  Hatteraick;  'hagel  and 
donner  ! — mine  was  done  when  I  got  out  of  the  bilboes.' 

'Have  patience,  my  good  friend ; — Til  convince  you  our 
interests  are  just  the  same.' 

Hatteraick  gave  a  short  dry  cough,  and  Glossin,  after  a 
pause,  proceeded. 

'How  came  you  to  let  the  boy  escape?' 

'Why,  fluch  and  blitzen !  he  was  no  charge  of  mine.  Lieu- 
tenant Brown  gave  him  to  his  cousin  that's  in  the  Middle- 
burgh  house  of  Vanbeest  and  Vanbruggen,  and  told  him 
some  goose's  gazette  about  his  being  taken  in  a  skirmish 
with  the  land-sharks — he  gave  him  for  a  foot-boy.     Me  let 


GUY    MANNERING  261 

him  escape ! — the  bastard  kinchin   should  have  walked  the 
plank  ere  I  troubled  myself  about  him.' 

'Well,  and  was  he  bred  a  foot-boy  then  ?' 

'Nein,  nein ;  the  kinchin  got  about  the  old  man's  heart,  and 
he  gave  him  his  own  name,  and  bred  him  up  in  the  office, 
and  then  sent  him  to  India — I  believe  he  would  have  packed 
him  back  here,  but  his  nephew  told  him  it  would  do  up  the 
free  trade  for  many  a  day,  if  the  youngster  got  back  to 
Scotland.' 

'Do  you  think  the  younker  knows  much  of  his  own  origin 
now  ?' 

'Deyvil!'  replied  Hatteraick,  'how  should  I  tell  what  he 
knows  now?  But  he  remembered  something  of  it  long. 
When  he  was  but  ten  years  old,  he  persuaded  another 
Satan's  limb  of  an  English  bastard  like  himself  to  steal  my 
lugger's  kham — boat — what  do  you  call  it? — to  return  to  his 
country,  as  he  called  it — fire  him !  Before  we  could  overtake 
them,  they  had  the  skiff  out  of  channel  as  far  as  the  Deurloo 
— the  boat  might  have  been  lost.' 

'I  wish  to  Heaven  she  had — with  him  in  her!'  ejaculated 
jGlossin. 

'Why,  I  was  so  angry  myself,  that  sapperment !  I  did 
give  him  a  tip  over  the  side — but  split  him — the  comical 
little  devil  swam  like  a  duck ;  so  1  made  him  swim  astern 
for  a  mile  to  teach  him  manners,  and  then  took  him  in 
when  he  was  sinking.  By  the  knocking  Nicholas !  he'll 
plague  you,  now  he's  come  over  the  herring-pond.  When 
he  was  so  high  he  had  the  spirit  of  thunder  and  lightning.' 

'How  did  he  get  back  from  India?' 

'Why,  how  should  I  know? — the  house  there  was  done 
up,  and  that  gave  us  a  shake  at  Middleburgh,  I  think — so 
they  sent  me  again  to  see  what  could  be  done  among  my 
old  acquaintances  here — for  we  held  old  stories  were  done 
away  and  forgotten.  So  I  had  got  a  pretty  trade  on  foot 
within  the  last  two  trips ;  but  that  stupid  houndsfoot  schelm, 
Brown,  has  knocked  it  on  the  head  again,  I  suppose,  with 
getting  himself  shot  by  the  colonel-man. 

'Why  were  not  you  with  them  ? 

'Why,  you  see — sapperment !  I  fear  nothing — but  it  was 
too  far  within  land,  and  I  might  have  been  scented.' 


262  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'True.    But  to  return  to  this  youngster— 


'Aye,  aye,  donner  and  blitzen !  he's  your  affair,'  said  the 
Captain. 

' — How  do  you  really  know  that  he  is  in  this  country?' 

'Why,  Gabriel  saw  him  up  among  the  hills.' 

'Gabriel!  who  is  he?' 

'A  fellow  from  the  gipsies,  that,  about  eighteen  years  since, 
was  pressed  on  board  that  d — d  fellow  Pritchard's  sloop-of- 
war.  It  was  he  came  off  and  gave  us  warning  that  the 
Shark  was  coming  round  upon  us  the  day  Kennedy  was 
done ;  and  he  told  us  how  Kennedy  had  given  the  informa- 
tion. The  gipsies  and  Kennedy  had  some  quarrel  besides. 
This  Gab  went  to  the  East  Indies  in  the  same  ship  with 
your  younker,  and,  sapperment !  knew  him  well,  though 
the  other  did  not  remember  him.  Gab  kept  out  of  his  eye 
though,  as  he  had  served  the  States  against  England,  and 
was  a  deserter  to  boot ;  and  he  sent  us  word  directly,  that 
we  might  know  of  his  being  here — though  it  does  not  concern 
us  a  rope's  end.' 

'So,  then,  really,  and  in  sober  earnest,  he  is  actually  in 
this  country,  Hatteraick,  between  friend  and  friend?'  asked 
Glossin,  seriously. 

'Wetter  and  donner !  yaw.    What  do  you  take  me  for  ?' 

For  a  blood-thirsty,  fearless  miscreant !  thought  Glossin 
internally  ;  but  said  aloud  : 

'And  which  of  your  people  was  it  that  shot  young  Hazle- 
wood  ?' 

'Sturm- wetter !'  said  the  Captain,  'do  you  think  we  were 
mad  ?  none  of  us,  man.  Gott !  the  country  was  too  hot  for 
the  trade  already,  with  that  d — d  frolic  of  Brown's,  attacking 
what  you  call  Woodbourne  House.' 

'Why,  I  am  told,'  said  Glossin,  'it  was  Brown  who  shot 
Hazlewood  ?' 

'Not  our  lieutenant,  I  promise  you ;  for  he  was  laid  six 
feet  deep  at  Derncleugh  the  day  before  the  thing  happened. 
Tausend  deyvils,  man !  do  ye  think  that  he  could  rise  out 
of  the  earth  to  shoot  another  man?' 

A  light  here  began  to  break  upon  Glossin's  confusion  of 
ideas.  'Did  you  not  say  that  the  younker,  as  you  call  him, 
goes  by  the  name  of  Brown?' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  563 

'Of  Brown?  yaw — Vanbeest  Brown;  old  Vanbeest  Brown, 
of  our  Vanbeest  and  Vanbruggen.  gave  him  his  own  name — 
he  did.' 

'Then,'  said  Glossin,  rubbing  his  hands,  'it  is  he,  by 
Heaven,  who  has  committed  this  crime!' 

'And  what  have  we  to  do  with  that  ?'  demanded  Hatteraick. 

Glossin  paused ;  and,  fertile  in  expedients,  hastily  ran  over 
his  project  in  his  own  mind,  and  then  drew  near  the  smug- 
gler with  a  confidential  air.  'You  know,  my  dear  Hatteraick, 
it  is  our  principal  business  to  get  rid  of  this  young  man?" 

'Umh  !'  answered  Dirk  Hatteraick. 

'Not.'  continued  Glossin — 'not  that  I  would  wish  any 
personal  harm  to  him — if — if — if  we  can  do  without.  Now, 
he  is  liable  to  be  seized  upon  by  justice,  both  as  bearing  the 
same  name  with  your  lieutenant,  who  was  engaged  in  that 
afifair  at  Woodbourne,  and  for  firing  at  young  Hazlewood 
with  intent  to  kill  or  wound.' 

'Aye,  aye,'  said  Dirk  Hatteraick :  'but  what  good  will 
that  do  you?  He'll  be  loose  again  as  soon  as  he  shows 
himself  to  carry  other  colours.' 

'True,  my  dear  Dirk — well  noticed,  my  friend  Hatteraick ! 
But  there  is  ground  enough  for  a  temporary  imprisonment 
till  he  fetch  his  pfoofs  from  England  or  elsewhere,  my  good 
friend.  I  understand  the  law,  Captain  Hatteraick,  and  I'll 
take    it   upon   me,   simple    Gilbert    Glossin    of    Ellangowan, 

justice  of  peace   for  the  county  of ,  to  refuse  his  bail, 

if  he  should  ofifer  the  best  in  the  country,  until  he  is  brought 
up  for  a  second  examination — now  where  d'ye  think  I'll 
incarcerate  him?' 

'Hagel  and  wetter  !  what  do  I  care?' 

'Stay,  my  friend — you  do  care  a  great  deal.  Do  you 
know  your  goods,  that  were  seized  and  carried  to  Wood- 
bourne,  are  now  lying  in  the  Custom-house  at  Portan- 
ferry?'  (a  small  fishing-town).  'Now  I  will  commit  this 
younker ' 

'When  you  have  caught  him?' 

'Aye,  aye.  when  I  have  caught  him — T  shall  not  be  long 
about  that — I  will  commit  him  to  the  Workhouse,  or  Bride- 
well, which  you  know  is  beside  the  Custom-house.' 

'Yaw,  the  Rasp-house ;  I  know  it  very  well.' 


264  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'I  will  take  care  that  the  red-coats  are  dispersed  through 
the  country ;  you  land  at  night  with  the  crew  of  your  lugger, 
receive  your  own  goods,  and  carry  the  younker  Brown  with 
you  back  to  Flushing.    Won't  that  do?' 

'Aye,  carry  him  to  Flushing,'  said  the  Captain,  'or— to 
America  ?' 

'Aye,  aye,  my  friend.' 

'Or — to  Jericho?' 

'Psha !    Wherever  you  have  a  mind.' 

'Aye,  or — pitch  him  overboard?' 

'Nay,  I  advise  no  violence.' 

'Nein,  nein — you  leave  that  to  me.  Sturm-wetter !  I 
know  you  of  old.  But,  hark  ye,  what  am  I,  Dirk  Hatteraick, 
to  be  the  better  of  this?' 

'Why,  is  it  not  your  interest  as  well  as  mine?'  said  Glossin: 
'besides,  I  set  you  free  this  morning.' 

'Yott  set  me  free ! — Donner  and  deyvil !  I  set  myself 
free.  Besides,  it  was  all  in  the  way  of  your  profession,  and 
happened  a  long  time  ago,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !' 

'Pshaw!  pshaw!  don't  let  us  jest;  I  am  not  against  mak- 
ing a  handsome  compliment — but  it's  your  afifair  as  well  as 
mine.' 

'What  do  you  talk  of  my  affair?  is  it  not  you  that  keep 
the  younker's  whole  estate  from  him?  Dirk  Hatteraick 
never  touched  a  stiver  of  his  rents.' 

'Hush  !  hush ! — I  tell  you  it  shall  be  a  joint  business.' 

'Why,  will  ye  give  me  half  the  kitt  ?' 

'What,  half  the  estate? — d'ye  mean  we  should  set  up 
house  together  at  Ellangowan,  and  take  the  barony,  ridge 
about  ?' 

'Sturm-wetter,  no  !  but  you  might  give  me  half  the  value — 
half  the  gelt.  Live  with  you? — nein — I  would  have  a  lust- 
haus  of  mine  own  on  the  Middleburgh  dyke,  and  a  blumen- 
garten  like  a  burgomaster's." 

'Aye,  and  a  wooden  lion  at  the  door,  and  a  painted  sentinel 
in  the  garden,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth ! — But  hark  ye, 
Hatteraick — what  will  all  the  tulips,  and  flower-gardens,  and 
pleasure-houses  in  the  Netherlands  do  for  you,  if  you  are 
hanged  here  in  Scotland  ?' 

liatteraick's  countenance  fell.     'Der  deyvil! — hanged?' 


GUY    MANNERING  265 

'Aye,  hanged,  meinheer  Captain  The  devil  can  scarce 
save  Dirk  Hatteraick  from  being  hanged  for  a  murderer 
and  kidnapper,  if  the  younker  of  Ellangowan  should  settle 
in  this  country,  and  if  the  gallant  Captain  chances  to  be 
caught  here  re-establishing  his  fair  trade !  And  I  won't  say, 
but,  as  peace  is  now  so  much  talked  of,  their  High  Mighti- 
nesses may  not  hand  him  over  to  oblige  their  new  allies, 
even  if  he  remained  in  faderland/ 

'Poz  hagel  blitzen  and  donner  !     I — I  doubt  you  say  true.* 

'Not,'  said  Glossin,  perceiving  he  had  made  the  desired 
impression,  'not  that  I  am  against  being  civil ;'  and  he 
slid  into  Hatteraick's  passive  hand  a  bank-note  of  some 
value. 

"Is  this  all?'  said  the  smuggler;  'you  had  the  price  of  half 
a  cargo  for  winking  at  our  job,  and  made  us  do  your  busi- 
ness too.' 

'But,  my  good  friend,  you  forget — in  this  case  you  will 
recover  all  your  own  goods.' 

'Aye,  at  the  risk  of  all  our  own  necks — we  could  do  that 
without  you.' 

'I  doubt  that,  Captain  Hatteraick,'  said  Glossin  drily, 
'because  you  would  probably  find  a  dozen  red-coats  at  the 
Custom-house,  whom  it  must  be  my  business,  if  we  agree 
about  this  matter,  to  have  removed.  Come,  come,  I  will  be 
as  liberal  as  I  can,  but  you  should  have  a  conscience,' 

'Now  strafe  mich  der  deyfcl ! — this  provokes  me  more 
than  all  the  rest ! — You  rob  and  you  murder,  and  you 
want  me  to  rob  and  murder,  and  play  the  silver-cooper,  or 
kidnapper,  as  you  call  it,  a  dozen  times  over,  and  then, 
hagel  and  wind-sturm !  you  speak  to  me  of  conscience ! 
Can  you  think  of  no  fairer  way  of  getting  rid  of  this  un- 
lucky lad?' 

'No  meinheer ;  but  as  I  commit  him  to  your  charge ' 

'To  my  charge — to  the  charge  of  steel  and  gunpowder  ! 
and — well,  if  it  must  be,  it  must — but  you  have  a  tolerably 
good  guess  what's  like  to  come  of  it.* 

'Oh,  my  dear  friend,  I  trust  no  degree  of  severity  will  be 
necessary,'  replied  Glossin. 

'Severity !'  said  the  fellow,  with  a  kind  of  groan.  'I  wish 
you  had  had  my  dreams  when  1   first  came  to  this  dog- 


Q66  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

hole,  and  tried  to  sleep  among  the  dry  seaweed.  First, 
there  was  that  d — d  fellow  there,  with  his  broken  back, 
sprawling  as  he  did  when  I  hurled  the  rock  over  a-top 
on  him — ha !  ha ! — you  would  have  sworn  he  was  lying  on 
the  floor  where  you  stand,  wriggling  like  a  crushed  frog — 
and  then ' 

'Nay,  my  friend,'  said  Glossin,  interrupting  him,  'what 
signifies  going  over  this  nonsense? — If  you  are  turned 
chicken-hearted,  why  the  game's  up,  that's  all— the  game's 
up  with  us  both.* 

'Chicken-hearted? — No.  I  have  not  lived  so  long  upon 
the  account  to  start  at  last,  neither  for  devil  nor  Dutch- 
man.' 

'Well,  then,  take  another  schnaps— the  cold's  at  your 
heart  still. — And  now  tell  me,  are  any  of  your  old  crew 
with  you  ?' 

'Nein — all  dead,  shot,  hanged,  drowned^  and  damned. 
Brown  was  the  last— all  dead  but  Gipsy  Gab,  and  he  would 
go  off  the  country  for  a  spill  of  money — or  he'll  be  quiet 
for  his  own  sake — or  old  Meg,  his  aunt,  will  keep  him  quiet 
for  hers.' 

'Which  Meg?' 

'Meg  Merrilies  the  old  devil's  limb  of  a  gipsy  witch.' 

'Is  she  still  alive?' 

'Yaw.' 

'And  in  this  country?' 

'And  in  this  country.  She  was  at  the  Kaim  of  Dern- 
cleugh,  at  Vanbeest  Brown's  last  wake,  as  they  call  it,  the 
other  night,  with  two  of  my  people,  and  some  of  her  own 
blasted  gipsies.' 

'That's  another  breaker  ahead.  Captain !  Will  she  not 
squeak,  think  ye  ?' 

'Not  she — she  won't  start — she  swore  by  the  salmon,^  if 
we  did  the  kinchin  no  harm,  she  would  never  tell  how  the 
ganger  got  it.  Why,  man,  though  I  gave  her  a  wipe  with 
my  hanger  in  the  heat  of  the  matter,  and  cut  her  arm.  and 
though  she  was  so  long  after  in  trouble  about  it  up  at  your 
borough-town  there,  der  deyvil !  old  Meg  was  as  true  as 
steel.' 

*The  great  and   inviolable  oath  of  the  strolling  tribes. 


GUY    MANNERING  267 

'Why.  that's  true,  as  you  say,'  replied  Glossin.  'And  yet 
if  she  could  be  carried  over  to  Zealand,  or  Hamburgh,  or — 
or — anywhere  else,  you  know,  it  were  as  well.' 

Hatteraick  jumped  upright  upon  his  feet,  and  looked  at 
Glossin  from  head  to  heel. — 'I  don't  see  the  goat's  foot,' 
he  said ; — 'and  yet  he  must  be  the  very  deyvil ! — But  Meg 
Merrilies  is  closer  yet  with  the  Kobold  than  you  are — aye, 
and  I  had  never  such  weather  as  after  having  drawn  her 
blood. — Nein,  nein,  I'll  meddle  with  her  no  more — she's 
a  witch  of  the  fiend — a  real  deyvil's  kind — but  that's  her 
affair.  Donner  and  wetter  !  I'll  neither  make  nor  meddle — 
that's  her  work. — But  for  the  rest — why,  if  I  thought  the 
trade  would  not  suft'er,  I  would  soon  rid  you  of  the  younker, 
if  you  send  me  word  when  he's  under  embargo.' 

In  brief  and  under  tones  the  two  worthy  associates  con- 
certed their  enterprise,  and  agreed  at  which  of  his  haunts 
Hatteraick  should  be  heard  of.  The  stay  of  his  lugger  on 
the  coast  was  not  difficult,  as  there  were  no  king's  vessels 
there  at  the  time. 


D— 10 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

You  are  one  of  those  that  will  not  serve  God  if  the  devil  bids  you. 
.—Because  we  come  to  do  you  service,  you  think  we  are  ruffians. 

Othello. 

WHEN  Glossin  returned  home,  he  found,  among 
other  letters  and  papers  sent  to  him,  one  of  con- 
siderable importance.  It  was  signed  by  Mr. 
Protocol,  an  attorney  in  Edinburgh,  and,  addressing  him  as 
the  agent  for  Godfrey  Bertram,  Esq.,  late  of  Ellangowan, 
and  his  representatives,  acquainted  him  with  the  sudden 
death  of  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram  of  Singleside,  requesting 
him  to  inform  his  clients  thereof,  in  case  they  should  judge 
it  proper  to  have  any  person  present  for  their  interest  at 
opening  the  repositories  of  the  deceased.  Mr.  Glossin  per- 
ceived at  once  that  the  letter-writer  was  unacquainted  with 
the  breach  which  had  taken  place  between  him  and  his  late 
patron.  The  estate  of  the  deceased  lady  should  by  rights, 
as  he  well  knew,  descend  to  Lucy  Bertram;  but  it  was  a 
thousand  to  one  that  the  caprice  of  the  old  lady  might 
have  altered  its  destination.  After  running  over  con- 
tingencies and  probabilities  in  his  fertile  mind,  to  ascertain 
what  sort  of  personal  advantage  might  accrue  to  him  from 
this  incident,  he  could  not  perceive  any  mode  of  availing 
himself  of  it,  except  in  so  far  as  it  might  go  to  assist  his 
plan  of  recovering,  or  rather  creating,  a  character,  the 
want  of  which  he  had  already  experienced,  and  was  likely 
to  feel  yet  more  deeply.  'I  must  place  myself,'  he  thought, 
'on  strong  ground,  that  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  Dirk 
Hatteraick's  project,  I  may  have  prepossessions  in  my 
favour  at  least.' — Besides,  to  do  Glossin  justice,  bad  as  he 
was,  he  might  feel  some  desire  to  compensate  to  Miss 
Bertram  in  a  small  degree,  and  in  a  case  in  which  his  own 
interest  did  not  interfere  with  hers,  the  infinite  mischief 
which  he  had  occasioned  to  her  family.  He  therefore  re- 
solved early  the  next  morning  to  ride  over  to  Woodbourne. 

36B 


GUY    MANNERING  269 

It  was  not  without  hesitation  that  he  took  this  step, 
having  the  natural  reluctance  to  face  Colonel  Mannering, 
which  fraud  and  villany  have  to  encounter  honour  and 
probity.  But  he  had  great  confidence  in  his  own  savoir 
faire.  His  talents  were  naturally  acute,  and  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  line  of  his  profession.  He  had  at  different 
times  resided  a  good  deal  in  England,  and  his  address  was 
free  both  from  country  rusticity  and  professional  pedantry; 
so  that  he  had  considerable  powers  both  of  address  and 
persuasion,  joined  to  an  unshaken  effrontery  which  he 
affected  to  disguise  under  plainness  of  manner.  Confident, 
therefore,  in  himself,  he  appeared  at  Woodbourne,  about 
ten  in  the  morning,  and  was  admitted  as  a  gentleman  com.e 
to  wait  upon  Miss  Bertram. 

He  did  not  announce  himself  until  he  was  at  the  door 
of  the  breakfast-parlour,  when  the  servant,  by  his  desire, 
said  aloud — ^'Mr.  Glossin,  to  wait  upon  Miss  Bertram.' 
Lucy,  remembering  the  last  scene  of  her  father's  existence, 
turned  as  pale  as  death,  and  had  wellnigh  fallen  from  her 
chair. 

Julia  Mannering  flew  to  her  assistance,  and  they  left 
the  room  together.  There  remained  Colonel  Mannering, 
Charles  Hazlewood  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and  the  Dominie, 
whose  gaunt  visage  and  wall-eyes  assumed  a  most  hostile 
aspect  on  recognizing  Glossin. 

That  honest  gentleman,  though  somewhat  abashed  by  the 
effect  of  his  first  introduction,  advanced  with  confidence, 
and  hoped  he  did  not  intrude  upon  the  ladies.  Colonel 
Mannering,  in  a  very  upright  and  stately  manner,  observed, 
that  he  did  not  know  to  what  he  was  to  impute  the  honour 
of  a  visit  from  Mr.  Glossin. 

'Hem !  hem ! — I  took  the  liberty  to  wait  upon  Miss 
Bertram,  Colonel  Mannering,  on  account  of  a  matter  of 
business.' 

'If  it  can  be  communicated  to  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  her  agent, 
sir,  I  believe  it  will  be  more  agreeable  to  Miss  Bertram.' 

'I  beg  pardon.  Colonel  Mannering,'  said  Glossin,  making 
a  wretched  attempt  at  an  easy  demeanour ;  'you  are  a  man 
of  the  world — there  are  some  cases  in  which  it  is  most 
prudent  for  all  parties  to  treat  with  principals.' 


270  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Then/  replied  Mannering,  with  a  repulsive  air,  'if  Mr. 
Glossin  will  take  the  trouble  to  state  his  object  in  a  letter. 
I  will  answer  that  Miss  Bertram  pays  proper  attention 
to  it.' 

'Certainly,'  stammered  Glossin ; — 'but  there  are  cases  in 
which  a  z'iz'a  voce  conference — Hem  !  I  perceive — I  know 
— that  Colonel  Mannering  has  adopted  some  prejudices 
which  may  make  my  visit  appear  intrusive ;  but  I  submit 
to  his  good  sense,  whether  he  ought  to  exclude  me  from 
a  hearing  without  knowing  the  purpose  of  my  visit,  or  of 
how  much  consequence  it  may  be  to  the  young  lady  whom 
he  honours  with  his  protection.' 

'Certainly,  sir,  I  have  not  the  least  intention  to  do  so,' 
replied  the  Colonel.  'I  will  learn  Miss  Bertram's  pleasure 
on  the  subject,  and  acquaint  Mr.  Glossin,  if  he  can  spare 
time  to  wait  for  her  answer.'     So  saying,  he  left  the  room. 

Glossin  had  still  remained  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
apartment.  Colonel  Mannering  had  made  not  the  slightest 
motion  to  invite  him  to  sit,  and  indeed  had  remained  stand- 
ing himself  during  their  short  interview.  When  he  left 
the  room,  however,  Glossin  seized  upon  a  chair,  and  threw 
himself  into  it  with  an  air  between  embarrassment  and 
effrontery.  He  felt  the  silence  of  his  companions  dis- 
concerting and  oppressive,  and  resolved  to  interrupt  it. 

'A  fine  day,  Mr.  Sampson.' 

The  Dominie  answered  with  something  between  an 
acquiescent  grunt  and  an  indignant  groan. 

'You  never  come  down  to  see  your  old  acquaintance  on 
the  Ellangowan  property,  Mr.  Sampson — You  would  find 
most  of  the  old  stagers  still  stationary  there.  I  have  too 
much  respect  for  the  late  family  to  disturb  old  residenters, 
even  under  pretence  of  improvement.  Besides,  it 's  not  my 
way — I  don't  like  it — I  believe,  Mr.  Sampson,  Scripture 
particularly  condemns  those  who  oppress  the  poor,  and  re- 
move landmarks.' 

'Or  who  devour  the  substance  of  orphans,'  subjoined  the 
Dominie.  'Anathema !  Maranatha !'  So  saying,  he  rose, 
shouldered  the  folio  which  he  had  been  perusing,  faced  to 
the  right  about,  and  marched  out  of  the  room  with  the 
strides  of  a  grenadier. 


GUY    MANXERIXG  371 

Mr.  Glossin,  no  way  disconcerted,  at  least  feeling  it 
necessary  not  to  appear  so,  turned  to  young  Hazlewood, 
who  was  apparently  busy  with  the  newspaper.  'Any  news, 
sir?'  Hazlewood  raised  his  eyes,  looked  at  him,  and  pushed 
the  paper  towards  him  as  if  to  a  stranger  in  a  coffee-house, 
then  rose,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room.  'I  beg  pardon, 
Mr.  Hazlewood,  but  I  can't  help  wishing  you  joy  of  getting 
so  easily  over  that  infernal  accident.'  This  was  answered 
by  a  sort  of  inclination  of  the  head,  as  slight  and  stiff  as 
could  well  be  imagined.  Yet  it  encouraged  our  man  of 
law  to  proceed.  'I  can  promise  you,  Mr.  Hazlewood,  few 
people  have  taken  the  interest  in  that  matter  which  I  have 
done,  both  for  the  sake  of  the  country,  and  on  account  of  my 
particular  respect  for  your  family  which  has  so  high  a 
stake  in  it;  indeed,  so  very  high  a  stake,  that,  as  Mr. 
Featherhead  is  turning  old  now,  and  as  there 's  a  talk,  since 
his  last  stroke,  of  his  taking  the  Chiltern  Hundreds,  it 
might  be  worth  your  while  to  look  about  you.  I  speak  as  a 
friend,  Mr.  Hazlewood,  and  as  one  who  understands  the 
roll ;  and  if  in  going  over  it  together ' 

T  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  have  no  views  in  which  your 
assistance  could  be  useful.' 

'Oh,  very  well — perhaps  you  are  right — it's  quite  time 
enough,  and  I  love  to  see  a  young  gentleman  cautious. 
But  I  was  talking  of  your  wound — I  think  I  have  got  a 
clue  to  that  business — 1  think  I  have — and  if  I  don't  bring 
the  fellow  to  condign  punishment ! ' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  once  more ;  but  your  zeal  outruns 
my  wishes.  I  have  every  reason  to  think  the  wound  was 
accidental — certainly  it  was  not  premeditated.  Against  in- 
gratitude and  premeditated  treachery,  should  you  find  any 
one  guilty  of  them,  my  resentment  will  be  as  warm  as  your 
own.'    This  was  Hazlewood's  answer. 

'Another  rebuff,'  thought  Glossin;  'I  must  try  him  upon 

the    other   tack. Right,    sir ;    very    nobly    said !    I    would 

have  no  more  mercy  on  an  ungrateful  man  than  I  would 
on  a  woodcock. — And  now  we  talk  of  sport'  (this  was  a 
sort  of  diverting  of  the  conversation  which  Glossin  had 
learned  from  his  former  patron),  'I  see  you  often  carry  a 
gun,  and   I   hope  you   will  be  soon   able  to  take  the   field 


373  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

again,  I  observe  you  confine  yourself  always  to  your  own 
side  of  the  Hazleshaws-burn.  I  hope,  my  dear  sir,  you  will 
make  no  scruple  of  following  your  game  to  the  Ellangowan 
bank:  I  believe  it  is  rather  the  best  exposure  of  the  two 
for  woodcocks,  although  both  are  capital.' 

As  this  offer  only  excited  a  cold  and  constrained  bow, 
Glossin  was  obliged  to  remain  silent,  and  was  presently 
afterwards  somewhat  relieved  by  the  entrance  of  Colonel 
Mannering. 

'I  have  detained  you  some  time,  I  fear,  sir,'  said  he, 
addressing  Glossin :  'I  wished  to  prevail  upon  Miss  Bertram 
to  see  you,  as,  in  my  opinion,  her  objections  ought  to  give 
way  to  the  necessity  of  hearing  in  her  own  person  what  is 
stated  to  be  of  importance  that  she  should  know.  But  I 
find  that  circumstances  of  recent  occurrence,  and  not  easily 
to  be  forgotten,  have  rendered  her  so  utterly  repugnant  to  a 
personal  interview  with  Mr.  Glossin,  that  it  would  be 
cruelty  to  insist  upon  it :  and  she  has  deputed  me  to  receive 
his  commands,  or  proposal — or,  in  short,  whatever  he  may 
wish  to  say  to  her.' 

'Hem,  hem!  I  am  sorry,  sir — I  am  very  sorry.  Colonel 
Mannering,  that  Miss  Bertram  should  suppose — that  any 
prejudice,  in  short — or  idea  that  anything  on  my  part ' 

'Sir/  said  the  inflexible  Colonel,  'where  no  accusation 
is  made,  excuses  or  explanations  are  unnecessary.  Have 
you  any  objection  to  communicate  to  me,  as  Miss  Bertram's 
temporary  guardian,  the  circumstances  which  you  conceive 
to  interest  her?' 

'None,  Colonel  Mannering;  she  could  not  choose  a  more 
respectable  friend,  or  one  with  whom  I,  in  particular,  would 
more  anxiously  wish  to  communicate  frankly.' 

'Have  the  goodness  to  speak  to  the  point,  sir,  if  you 
please.' 

'Why,  sir,  it  is  not  so  easy  all  at  once— but  Mr,  Hazle- 
wood  need  not  Iteave  the  room, — I  mean  so  well  to  Miss 
Bertram,  that  I  could  wish  the  whole  world  to  hear  my 
part  of  the  conference.' 

'My  friend  Mr.  Charles  Hazlewood  will  not  probably  be 
anxious,  Mr.  Glossin,  to  listen  to  what  cannot  concern 
him — and  now,  when  he  has  left  us  alone,  let  me  pray  you 


GUY    MANNERING  273 

to  be  short  and  explicit  in  what  you  have  to  say.  I  am 
a  soldier,  sir,  somewhat  impatient  of  forms  and  introduc- 
tions.' So  saying,  he  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair,  and 
waited  for  Mr.  Glossin's  communication. 

'Be  pleased  to  look  at  that  letter,'  said  Glossin,  putting 
Protocol's  epistle  into  Mannering's  hand  as  the  shortest 
way  of  stating  his  business. 

The  Colonel  read  it,  and  returned  it,  after  pencilling  the 
name  of  the  writer  in  his  memorandum-book.  'This,  sir, 
does  not  seem  to  require  much  discussion — I  will  see  that 
Miss  Bertram's  interest  is  attended  to.' 

'But,  sir, — but.  Colonel  Mannering,'  added  Glossin,  'there 
is  another  matter  which  no  one  can  explain  but  myself. 
This  lady — this  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram,  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  made  a  general  settlement  of  her  affairs  in 
Miss  Lucy  Bertram's  favour  while  she  lived  with  my  old 
friend,  Mr.  Bertram,  at  Ellangowan.  The  Dominie — that 
was  the  name  by  which  my  deceased  friend  always  called 
that  very  respectable  man  Mr.  Sampson — he  and  I  witnessed 
the  deed.  And  she  had  full  power  at  that  time  to  make 
such  a  settlement,  for  she  was  in  fee  of  the  estate  of  Single- 
side  even  then,  although  it  was  life-rented  by  an  elder 
sister.  It  was  a  whimsical  settlement  of  old  Singleside's, 
sir;  he  pitted  the  two  cats  his  daughters  against  each 
other, — ha  !  ha  1  ha  !' 

'Well,  sir,'  said  Mannering,  without  the  slightest  smile 
of  sympathy — 'but  to  the  purpose.  You  say  that  this  lady 
had  power  to  settle  her  estate  on  Miss  Bertram,  and  that 
she  did  so?' 

'Even  so,  Colonel.'  replied  Glossin.  'I  think  I  should 
understand  the  law — I  have  followed  it  for  many  years,  and 
though  I  have  given  it  up  to  retire  upon  a  handsome  compe- 
tence, I  did  not  throw  away  that  knowledge  which  is  pro- 
nounced better  than  house  and  land,  and  which  I  take  to  be 
the  knowledge  of  the  law,  since,  as  our  common  rhyme  has  it, 

'Tis   most  excellent, 

To  win  the  land  that's  gone  and  spent. 

No,  no, — I  love  the  smack  of  the  whip — I  have  a  little,  a 
very  little  law  yet,  at  the  service  of  my  friends.' 


274  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Glossin  ran  on  in  this  manner,  thinking  he  had  made  a 
favourable  impression  on  Mannering.  The  Colonel  indeed 
reflected  that  this  might  be  a  most  important  crisis  for 
Miss  Bertram's  interest,  and  resolved  that  his  strong  in- 
clination to  throw  Glossin  out  at  window,  or  at  door,  should 
not  interfere  with  it.  He  put  a  strong  curb  on  his  temper, 
and  resolved  to  listen  with  patience  at  least,  if  without 
complacency.  He  therefore  let  Mr.  Glossin  get  to  the  end 
of  his  self-congratulations,  and  then  asked  him  if  he  knew 
where  the  deed  was? 

T  know — that  is,  I  think — I  believe  I  can  recover  it.  In 
such  cases  custodiers  have  sometimes  made  a  charge.' 

'We  won't  differ  as  to  that,  sir,'  said  the  Colonel,  taking 
out  his  pocket-book. 

'But,  my  dear  sir,  you  take  me  so  very  short — I  said 
some  persons  viight  make  such  a  claim — I  mean  for  pay- 
ment of  the  expenses  of  the  deed,  trouble  in  the  affair,  &c. 
But  I,  for  my  own  part,  only  wish  Miss  Bertram  and  her 
friends  to  be  satisfied  that  I  am  acting  towards  her  with 
honour.  There 's  the  paper,  sir !  It  would  have  been  a 
satisfaction  to  me  to  have  delivered  it  into  Miss  Bertram's 
own  hands,  and  to  have  wished  her  joy  of  the  prospects 
which  it  opens.  But  since  her  prejudices  on  the  subject 
are  invincible,  it  only  remains  for  me  to  transmit  her  my 
best  wishes  through  you.  Colonel  Mannering,  and  to  express 
that  I  shall  willingly  give  my  testimony  in  support  of  that 
deed  when  I  shall  be  called  upon.  I  have  the  honour  to 
wish  you  a  good  morning,  sir.' 

This  parting  speech  was  so  well  got  up,  and  had  so  much 
the  tone  of  conscious  integrity  unjustly  suspected,  that 
even  Colonel  Mannering  was  staggered  in  his  bad  opinion. 
He  followed  him  two  or  three  steps,  and  took  leave  of  him 
with  more  politeness  (though  still  cold  and  formal)  than 
he  had  paid  during  his  visit.  Glossin  left  the  house,  half 
pleased  with  the  impression  he  had  made,  half  mortified 
by  the  stern  caution  and  proud  reluctance  with  which  he 
had  been  received.  'Colonel  Mannering  might  have  had 
more  politeness,'  he  said  to  himself — 'it  is  not  every  man 
that  can  bring  a  good  chance  of  £400  a  year  to  a  penniless 
girl.     Singleside  must  be  up  to  £400  a  year  now — there  's 


GUY    MANNERING  275 

Reilageganbeg,  Gillifidget,  Loverless,  Liealone,  and  the 
Spinister's  Knowe — good  £400  a  year.  Some  people  might 
have  made  their  own  of  it  in  my  place — and  yet,  to  own  the 
truth,  after  much  consideration,  I  don't  see  how  that  is 
possible.' 

Glossin  was  no  sooner  mounted  and  gone,  than  the  Colonel 
dispatched  a  groom  for  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  and  putting  the 
deed  into  his  hand,  requested  to  know  if  it  was  likely 
to  be  available  to  his  friend  Lucy  Bertram.  Mr.  Mac- 
Morlan  perused  it  with  eyes  that  sparkled  with  delight, 
snapped  his  fingers  repeatedly,  and  at  length  exclaimed. 
'Available ! — it 's  as  tight  as  a  glove — naebody  could  make 
better  wark  than  Glossin,  when  he  didna  let  down  a  steek 

on  purpose.    But'  (his  countenance  falling)  'the  auld  b , 

that  I  should  say  so,  might  alter  at  pleasure  !' 

'Ah !  And  how  shall  we  know  whether  she  has  done 
so?' 

'Somebody  must  attend  on  Miss  Bertram's  part,  when 
the  repositories  of  the  deceased  are  opened.' 

'Can  you  go?'  said  the  Colonel. 

'I  fear  1  cannot,'  replied  Mac-Morlan;  'I  must  attend 
a  jury  trial  before  our  court.' 

'Then  I  will  go  myself,'  said  the  Colonel;  'I'll  set  out 
to-morrow.  Sampson  shall  go  with  me — he  is  witness  to 
this  settlement.    But  I  shall  want  a  legal  adviser?' 

'The  gentleman  that  was  lately  sheriff  of  this  county 
is  high  in  reputation  as  a  barrister;  I  will  give  you  a  card 
of  introduction  to  him.' 

'What  I  like  about  you,  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,'  said  the 
Colonel,  'is  that  you  always  come  straight  to  the  point ; — 
let  me  have  it  instantly.  Shall  we  tell  Miss  Lucy  her  chance 
of  becoming  an  heiress?' 

'Surely,  because  you  must  have  some  powers  from  her, 
which  I  will  instantly  draw  out.  Besides,  I  will  be  caution 
for  her  prudence,  and  that  she  will  consider  it  only  in  the 
light  of  a  chance.' 

Mr.  Mac-Morlan  judged  well.  It  could  not  be  discerned 
from  Miss  Bertram's  manner,  that  she  founded  exulting 
hopes  upon  the  prospect  thus  unexpectedly  opening  before 
her.     She  did,  indeed,   in  the  course  of  the   evening,   ask 


276  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  as  if  by  accident,  what  might  be  the 
annual  income  of  the  Hazlewood  property;  but  shall  we 
therefore  aver  for  certain  that  she  was  considering  whether 
an  heiress  of  four  hundred  a  year  might  be  a  suitable  match 
for  the  young  Laird? 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Give  me  a  cup  of  sack,  to  make  mine  eyes  look  red — for  I  must 
speak  in  passion,  and  I  will  do  it  in  King  Cambyses'  vein. 

Henry  IV,  Part  I. 

MANNERING,  with  Sampson  for  his  companion,  lost 
no  time  in  his  journey  to  Edinburgh.  They  travelled 
in  the  Colonel's  Post-chariot,  v^ho,  knowing  his  com- 
panion's habits  of  abstraction,  did  not  choose  to  lose 
him  out  of  his  own  sight,  far  less  to  trust  him  on  horseback, 
where,  in  all  probability,  a  knavish  stable-boy  might  with 
little  address  have  contrived  to  mount  him  with  his  face 
to  the  tail.  Accordingly,  with  the  aid  of  his  valet  who 
attended  on  horseback,  he  contrived  to  bring  Mr.  Sampson 
safe  to  an  inn  in  Edinburgh, — for  hotels  in  those  days  there 
were  none, — without  any  other  accident  than  arose  from  his 
straying  twice  upon  the  road.  On  one  occasion  he  was 
recovered  by  Barnes,  who  understood  his  humour,  when, 
after  engaging  in  close  colloquy  with  the  schoolmaster  of 
Moffat,  respecting  a  disputed  quantity  in  Horace's  seventh 
Ode,  Book  H,  the  dispute  led  on  to  another  controversy, 
concerning  the  exact  meaning  of  the  word  Malobathro,  in 
that  lyric  effusion.  His  second  escapade  was  made  for 
the  purpose  of  visiting  the  field  of  Rullion-green,  which 
was  dear  to  his  Presbyterian  predilections.  Having  got 
out  of  the  carriage  for  an  instant,  he  saw  the  sepulchral 
monument  of  the  slain  at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile,  and 
was  arrested  by  Barnes  in  his  progress  up  the  Pentland- 
hills,  having  on  both  occasions  forgot  his  friend,  patron, 
and  fellow  traveller,  as  completely  as  if  he  had  been  in 
the  East  Indies.  On  being  reminded  that  Colonel  Manner- 
ing  was  waiting  for  him,  he  uttered  his  usual  ejaculation 
of  'Prodigious ! — I  was  oblivious,'  and  then  strode  back 
to  his  post.  Barnes  was  surprised  at  his  master's  patience 
on  both  occasions,  knowing  by  experience  how  little  he 
brooked  neglect  or  delay;  but  the  Dominie  was  in  every 
respect  a  privileged  person.    His  patron  and  he  were  never 

277 


278  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

for  a  moment  in  each  other's  way,  and  it  seemed  obvious 
that  they  were  formed  to  be  companions  through  Hfe.  If 
Mannering  wanted  a  particular  book,  the  Dominie  could 
bring  it;  if  he  wished  to  have  accounts  summed  up  or 
checked,  his  assistance  was  equally  ready;  if  he  desired  to 
recall  a  particular  passage  in  the  classics,  he  could  have 
recourse  to  the  Dominie  as  to  a  dictionary ;  and  all  the 
while,  this  walking  statue  was  neither  presuming  when 
noticed,  nor  sulky  when  left  to  himself.  To  a  proud,  shy, 
reserved  man,  and  such  in  many  respects  was  Mannering, 
this  sort  of  living  catalogue,  and  animated  automaton,  had 
all  the  advantages  of  a  literary  dumb-waiter. 

As  soon  as  they  arrived  in  Edinburgh,  and  were  estab- 
lished at  the  George  Inn,  near  Bristo-port,  then  kept  by 
old  Cockburn  (I  love  to  be  particular),  the  Colonel  desired 
the  waiter  to  procure  him  a  guide  to  Mr.  Pleydell's,  the 
advocate,  for  whom  he  had  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
Mr.  Mac-Morlan.  He  then  commanded  Barnes  to  have 
an  eye  to  the  Dominie,  and  walked  forth  with  a  chairman 
who  was  to  usher  him  to  the  man  of  law. 

The  period  was  near  the  end  of  the  American  war.  The 
desire  of  room,  of  air,  and  of  decent  accommodation,  had 
not  as  yet  made  very  much  progress  in  the  capital  of 
Scotland.  Some  efforts  had  been  made  on  the  south  side 
of  the  town  towards  building  houses  within  themselves,  as 
they  are  emphatically  termed;  and  the  New  Town  on  the 
north,  since  so  much  extended,  was  then  just  commenced. 
But  the  great  bulk  of  the  better  classes,  and  particularly 
those  connected  with  the  law,  still  lived  in  flats  or  dungeons 
of  the  Old  Town.  The  matters  also  of  some  of  the  veterans 
of  the  law  had  not  admitted  innovation.  One  or  two 
eminent  lawyers  still  saw  their  clients  in  taverns,  as  was 
the  general  custom  fifty  years  before;  and  although  their 
habits  were  already  considered  as  old-fashioned  by  the 
younger  barristers,  yet  the  custom  of  mixing  wine  and 
revelry  with  serious  business  was  still  maintained  by  those 
senior  counsellors,  who  loved  the  old  road,  either  because 
it  was  such,  or  because  they  had  got  too  well  used  to  it  to 
travel  any  other.  Among  those  praisers  of  the  past  time, 
who  with  ostentatious  obstinacy  affected  the  manners  of  a 


GUY    MANNERING  279 

former  generation,  was  this  same  Paulus  Pleydell,  Esq., 
otherwise  a  good  scholar,  an  excellent  lawyer,  and  a  worthy 
man. 

Under  the  guidance  of  his  trusty  attendant.  Colonel 
Mannering,  after  threading  a  dark  lane  or  two,  reached 
the  High  Street,  then  clanging  with  the  voices  of  oyster- 
women  and  the  bells  of  pie-men ;  for  it  had,  as  his  guide 
assured  him,  just  'chappit  eight  upon  the  Tron.'  It  was 
long  since  Mannering  had  been  in  the  street  of  a  crowded 
metropolis,  which,  with  its  noise  and  clamour,  its  sounds 
of  trade,  of  revelry  and  of  licence,  its  variety  of  lights, 
and  the  eternally  changing  bustle  of  its  hundred  groups, 
offers,  by  night  especially,  a  spectacle  which,  though  com- 
posed of  the  most  vulgar  materials  when  they  are  separately 
considered,  has,  when  they  are  combined,  a  striking  and 
powerful  effect  on  the  imagination.  The  extraordinary 
height  of  the  houses  was  marked  by  lights,  which,  glimmer- 
ing irregularly  along  their  front,  ascended  so  high  among 
the  attics  that  they  seemed  at  length  to  twinkle  in  the 
middle  sky.  This  coup  d'ccil,  which  still  subsists  in  a  certain 
degree,  was  then  more  imposing,  owing  to  the  uninterrupted 
range  of  buildings  on  each  side,  which,  broken  only  at  the 
space  where  the  North  Bridge  joins  the  main  street,  formed 
a  superb  and  uniform  Place,  extending  from  the  front  of 
the  Luckenbooths  to  the  head  of  the  Canongate,  and  cor- 
responding in  breadth  and  length  to  the  uncommon  height 
of  the  buildings  on  either  side. 

Mannering  had  not  much  time  to  look  and  to  admire. 
His  conductor  hurried  him  across  this  striking  scene,  and 
suddenly  dived  with  him  into  a  very  steep  paved  lane. 
Turning  to  the  right,  they  entered  a  scale-staircase,  as  it 
is  called,  the  state  of  which,  so  far  as  it  could  be  judged 
of  by  one  of  his  senses,  annoyed  Mannering's  delicacy  not 
a  little.  When  they  had  ascended  cautiously  to  a  con- 
siderable height,  they  heard  a  heavy  rap  at  a  door,  still  two 
stories  above  them.  The  door  opened,  and  immediately 
ensued  the  sharp  and  worrying  bark  of  a  dog,  the  squalling 
of  a  woman,  the  screams  of  an  assaulted  cat,  and  the 
hoarse  voice  of  a  man,  who  cried  in  a  most  imperative 
tone,  'Will  ye,  Mustard?  will  ye? — down,  sir!  down!' 


280  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Lord  preserve  us !'  said  the  female  voice,  'an  he  had 
worried  our  cat,  Mr.  Pleydell  would  ne'er  hae  forgi'en  me !' 

'Aweel,  my  doo,  the  cat 's  no  a  prin  the  waur — So  he  's 
no  in,  ye  say?' 

'Na,  Mr.  Pleydell 's  ne'er  in  the  house  on  Saturday  at 
e'en,'  answered  the  female  voice. 

'And  the  morn's  Sabbath  too,'  said  the  querist;  'I  dinna 
ken  what  will  be  done.' 

By  this  time  Mannering  appeared,  and  found  a  tall  strong 
countryman,  clad  in  a  coat  of  pepper-and-salt-coloured 
mixture,  with  huge  metal  buttons,  a  glazed  hat  and  boots, 
and  a  large  horsewhip  beneath  his  arm,  in  colloquy  with 
a  slip-shod  damsel,  who  had  in  one  hand  the  lock  of  the 
door,  and  in  the  other  a  pail  of  whiting,  or  camstanc  as  it  is 
called,  mixed  with  water — a  circumstance  which  indicates 
Saturday  night  in  Edinburgh. 

'So  Mr.  Pleydell  is  not  at  home,  my  good  girl?'  said 
Mannering. 

'Aye,  sir,  he's  at  hame,  but  he's  no  in  the  house;  he's 
ay  out  on  Saturday  at  e'en.' 

"But,  my  good  girl,  I  am  a  stranger,  and  my  business 
express. — Will  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  him?' 

'His  honour,'  said  the  chairman,  'will  be  at  Clerihugh's 
about  this  time — Hersell  could  hae  tell'd  ye  that,  but  she 
thought  ye  wanted  to  see  his  house.' 

'Well,  then,  show  me  to  this  tavern — I  suppose  he  will 
see  me  as  I  come  on  business  of  some  consequence?' 

'I  dinna  ken,  sir,'  said  the  girl;  'he  disna  like  to  be 
disturbed  on  Saturdays  wi'  business — but  he  's  ay  civil  to 
strangers.' 

'I'll  gang  to  the  tavern  too,'  said  our  friend  Dinmont, 
'for  I  am  a  stranger  also,  and  on  business  e'en  sic  like.' 

'Na,'  said  the  handmaiden,  'an  he  see  the  gentleman,  he'll 
see  the  simple  body  too — but  Lord's  sake,  dinna  say  it  was 
me  sent  ye  there  !' 

'Atweel,  I  am  a  simple  body,  that's  true,  hinny,  but  I 
am  no  come  to  steal  ony  o'  his  skeel  for  naething,'  said 
the  farmer  in  his  honest  pride,  and  strutted  away  down- 
stairs, followed  by  Mannering  and  the  cadie.  Mannering 
could  not  help  admiring  the  determined  stride  with  which 


GUY    MANNERIXG  281 

the  stranger  who  preceded  them  divided  the  press,  shoulder- 
ing from  him,  by  the  mere  weight  and  impetus  of  his  motion, 
both  drunk  and  sober  passengers.  'He'll  be  a  Teviotdale 
tup  tat  ane,'  said  the  chairman,  'tat 's  for  keeping  ta  crown 
o'  ta  causeway  tat  gate ;  he'll  no  gang  far  or  he'll  get  some- 
body to  bell  ta  cat  wi'  him.' 

His  shrewd  augury,  however,  was  not  fulfilled.  Those 
who  recoiled  from  the  colossal  weight  of  Dinmont,  on 
looking  up  at  his  size  and  strength,  apparently  judged  him 
too  heavy  metal  to  be  rashly  encountered  and  suffered 
him  to  pursue  his  course  unchallenged.  Following  in  the 
wake  of  this  first-rate,  Mannering  proceeded  till  the  farmer 
made  a  pause,  and,  looking  back  to  the  chairman,  said, 
'I'm  thinking  this  will  be  the  close,  friend?' 

'Aye,  aye,'  replied  Donald,  'tat's  ta  close.' 

Dinmont  descended  confidently,  then  turned  into  a  dark 
alley — then  up  a  dark  stair — and  then  into  an  open  door. 
While  he  was  whistling  shrilly  for  the  waiter,  as  if  he 
had  been  one  of  his  collie  dogs,  Mannering  looked  round 
him,  and  could  hardly  conceive  how  a  gentleman  of  a  liberal 
profession,  and  good  society,  should  choose  such  a  scene 
for  social  indulgence.  Besides  the  miserable  entrance,  the 
house  itself  seemed  paltry  and  half  ruinous.  The  passage 
in  which  they  stood  had  a  window  to  the  close,  which 
admitted  a  little  light  during  the  daytime,  and  a  villanous 
compound  of  smells  at  all  times  but  more  especially  towards 
evening.  Corresponding  to  this  window  was  a  borrowed 
light  on  the  other  side  of  the  passage,  looking  into  the 
kitchen,  which  had  no  direct  communication  with  the  free 
air,  but  received  in  the  daytime,  at  second-hand,  such 
straggling  and  obscure  light  as  found  its  way  from  the  lane 
through  the  window  opposite.  At  present,  the  interior  of 
the  kitchen  was  visible  by  its  own  huge  fires — a  sort  of 
Pandemonium,  where  men  and  women,  half  undressed,  were 
busied  in  baking,  broiling,  roasting  oysters,  and  preparing 
devils  on  the  gridiron;  the  mistress  of  the  place,  with  her 
shoes  slip-shod,  and  her  hair  straggling  like  that  of  Megaera 
from  under  a  round-eared  cap,  toiling,  scolding,  receiving 
orders,  giving  them,  and  obeying  them  all  at  once,  seemed 
the  presiding  enchantress  of  that  gloomy  and  fiery  region. 


283  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Loud  and  repeated  bursts  of  laughter,  from  different 
quarters  of  the  house,  proved  that  her  labours  were  accept- 
able, and  not  unrewarded  by  a  generous  public.  With  some 
difificulty  a  waiter  was  prevailed  upon  to  show  Colonel 
Mannering  and  Dinmont  the  room  where  their  friend, 
learned  in  the  law,  held  his  hebdomadal  carousals.  The 
scene  which  it  exhibited,  and  particularly  the  attitude  of 
the  counsellor  himself,  the  principal  figure  therein,  struck 
his  two  clients  with  amazement. 

Mr.  Pleydell  was  a  lively,  sharp-looking  gentleman,  with 
a  professional  shrewdness  in  his  eye,  and,  generally  speak- 
ing, a  professional  formality  in  his  manners.  But  this,  like 
his  three-tailed  wig  and  black  coat,  he  could  slip  off  on 
a  Saturday  evening,  when  surrounded  by  a  party  of  jolly 
companions,  and  disposed  for  what  he  called  his  altitudes. 
On  the  present  occasion,  the  revel  had  lasted  since  four 
o'clock,  and  at  length,  under  the  direction  of  a  venerable 
compotator  who  had  shared  the  sports  and  festivity  of 
three  generations,  the  frolicsome  company  had  begun  to 
practise  the  ancient  and  now  forgotten  pastime  of  High 
Jinks.  This  game  was  played  in  several  different  ways. 
Most  frequently,  the  dice  were  thrown  by  the  company,  and 
those  upon  whom  the  lot  fell  were  obliged  to  assume  and 
maintain,  for  a  time,  a  certain  fictitious  character,  or  to 
repeat  a  certain  number'  of  f  escennine  verses  in  a  particular 
order.  If  they  departed  from  the  characters  assigned,  or 
if  their  memory  proved  treacherous  in  the  repetition,  they 
incurred  forfeits,  which  were  either  compounded  for  by 
swallowing  an  additional  bumper,  or  by  paying  a  small  sum 
towards  the  reckoning.  At  this  sport  the  jovial  company 
were  closely  engaged,  when  Mannering  entered  the  room. 

Mr.  Counsellor  Pleydell,  such  as  we  have  described  him, 
was  enthroned,  as  a  monarch,  in  an  elbow-chair  placed  on 
the  dining-table,  his  scratch  wig  on  one  side,  his  head 
crowned  with  a  bottle-slider,  his  eye  leering  with  an  ex- 
pression betwixt  fun  and  the  effects  of  wine,  while  his 
court  around  him  resounded  with  such  crambo  scraps  of 
verse  as  these: 

Where  is  Gerunto  now?  and  what's  become  of  him? 
Gerunto's  drowned  because  he  could  not  swim,  &c.,  &c. 


GUY    MANNERING  283 

Such,  O  Themis,  were  anciently  the  sports  of  thy  Scottish 
children !  Dinmont  was  first  in  the  room.  He  stood  aghast 
a  moment, — and  then  exclaimed,  'It's  him,  sure  enough — 
Deil  o'  the  like  o'  that  ever  I  saw !' 

At  the  sound  of  'Mr.  Dinmont  and  Colonel  Mannering 
wanting  to  speak  to  you,  sir,'  Pleydell  turned  his  head,  and 
blushed  a  little  when  he  saw  the  very  genteel  figure  of  the 
English  stranger.  He  was,  however,  of  the  opinion  of 
Falstaff,  'Out,  ye  villains,  play  out  the  play!'  wisely  judging 
it  the  better  way  to  appear  totally  unconcerned.  'Where 
be  your  guards?'  exclaimed  this  second  Justinian;  'see  ye 
not  a  stranger  knight  from  foreign  parts  arrived  at  this 
our  court  of  Holyrood, — with  our  bold  yeoman  Andrew 
Dinmont,  who  has  succeeded  to  the  keeping  of  our  royal 
flocks  within  the  forest  of  Jedwood,  where,  thanks  to  our 
royal  care  in  the  administration  of  justice,  they  feed  as 
safe  as  if  they  were  within  the  bounds  of  Fife?  Where  be 
our  heralds,  our  pursuivants,  our  Lyon,  our  Marchmount, 
our  Carrick,  and  our  Snowdown?  Let  the  strangers  be 
placed  at  our  board,  and  regaled  as  beseemeth  their  quality, 
and  this  our  high  holiday — to-morrow  we  will  hear  their 
tidings.' 

'So  please  you,  my  liege,  to-morrow  's  Sunday,'  said  one 
of  the  company. 

'Sunday,  is  it?  then  we  will  give  no  offence  to  the 
assembly  of  the  kirk — on  Monday  shall  be  their  audience.' 

Mannering,  who  had  stood  at  first  uncertain  whether  to 
advance  or  retreat,  now  resolved  to  enter  for  the  moment 
into  the  whim  of  the  scene,  though  internally  fretting  at 
Mac-Morlan  for  sending  him  to  consult  with  a  crack- 
brained  humourist.  He  therefore  advanced  with  three 
profound  congees,  and  craved  permission  to  lay  his  creden- 
tials at  the  feet  of  the  Scottish  monarch,  in  order  to  be 
perused  at  his  best  leisure.  The  gravity  with  which  he 
accommodated  himself  to  the  humour  of  the  moment,  and 
the  deep  and  humble  inclination  with  which  he  at  first 
declined,  and  then  accepted,  a  seat  presented  by  the  master 
of  the  ceremonies,  procured  him  three  rounds  of  applause. 

'Deil  hae  me.  if  they  arena  a'  mad  thegithcr !'  said 
Dinmont,  occupying  with  less  ceremony  a  seat  at  the  bot- 


284  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT 

torn  of  the  table,  'or  else  they  hae  taen  Yule  before  it  comes, 
and  are  gaun  a-guisarding.' 

A  large  glass  of  claret  was  offered  to  Mannering,  who 
drank  it  to  the  health  of  the  reigning  prince.  'You  are, 
I  presume  to  guess,'  said  the  monarch,  'that  celebrated  Sir 
Miles  Mannering,  so  renowned  in  the  French  wars,  and 
may  well  pronounce  to  us  if  the  wines  of  Gascony  lose  their 
flavour  in  our  more  northern  realm.' 

Mannering,  agreeably  flattered  by  this  allusion  to  the 
fame  of  his  celebrated  ancestor,  replied  by  professing  him- 
self only  a  distant  relation  of  the  preux  chevalier,  and 
added  'that  in  his  opinion  the  wine  was  superlatively  good.' 

'It's  ower  cauld  for  my  stamach,'  said  Dinmont,  setting 
down  the  glass  (empty,  however). 

'We  will  correct  that  quality,'  answered  King  Paulus, 
the  first  of  the  name;  'we  have  not  forgotten  that  the 
moist  and  humid  air  of  our  valley  of  Liddel  inclines  to 
stronger  potations. — Seneschal,  let  our  faithful  yeoman  have 
a  cup  of  brandy;  it  will  be  more  germain  to  the  matter.' 

'And  now,'  said  Mannering,  'since  we  have  unwarily  in- 
truded upon  your  majesty  at  a  moment  of  mirthful  retire- 
ment, be  pleased  to  say  when  you  will  indulge  a  stranger 
with  an  audience  on  those  affairs  of  weight  which  have 
brought  him  to  your  northern  capital.' 

The  monarch  opened  Mac-Morlan's  letter,  and,  running 
it  hastily  over,  exclaimed,  with  his  natural  voice  and  man- 
ner, 'Lucy  Bertram  of  Ellangowan,  poor  dear  lassie !' 

'A  forfeit !  a  forfeit !'  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices ;  'his 
imajesty  has  forgot  his  kingly  character.' 

'Not  a  whit!  not  a  whit!'  replied  the  king; — 'I'll  be 
judged  by  this  courteous  knight.  May  not  a  monarch  love 
a  maid  of  low  degree?  Is  not  King  Cophetua  and  the 
Beggar-maid  an  adjudged  case  in  point?' 

'Professional !  professional  i — another  forfeit !'  exclaimed 
the  tumultuary  nobility. 

'Had  not  our  royal  predecessors,'  continued  the  monarch, 
exalting  his  sovereign  voice  to  drown  these  disaffected 
clamours, — 'had  they  not  their  Jean  Logics,  their  Bessie 
Carmichaels,  their  Oliphants,  their  Sandilands,  and  their 
Weirs,  and  shall  it  be  denied  to  us  even  to  name  a  maiden 


GUY    MANXERIXG.  285 

whom  we  delight  to  honour?  Nay,  then,  sink  state  and 
perish  sovereignty  !  for,  like  a  second  Charles  V,  we  will 
abdicate,  and  seek  in  the  private  shades  of  life  those  pleas- 
ures which  are  denied  to  a  throne.' 

So  saying,  he  flung  away  his  crown,  and  sprung  from  his 
exalted  station  with  more  agility  than  could  have  been 
expected  from  his  age,  ordered  lights  and  a  wash-hand 
basin  and  towel,  with  a  cup  of  green  tea,  into  another  room, 
and  made  a  sign  to  Mannering  to  accompany  him.  In  less 
than  two  minutes  he  washed  his  face  and  hands,  settled  his 
wig  in  the  glass,  and,  to  Mannering's  great  surprise,  looked 
quite  a  different  man  from  the  childish  Bacchanal  he  had 
seen  a  moment  before. 

'There  are  folks,'  he  said,  'Mr.  Mannering,  before  whom 
one  should  take  care  how  they  play  the  fool — because  they 
have  either  too  much  malice  or  too  little  wit,  as  the  poet 
says.  The  best  compliment  I  can  pay  Colonel  Mannering,  is 
to  show  I  am  not  ashamed  to  expose  myself  before  him — 
and  truly  I  think  it  is  a  compliment  I  have  not  spared  to- 
night on  your  good  nature. — But  what 's  that  great  strong 
fellow  wanting?' 

Dinmont,  who  had  pushed  after  Mannering  into  the  room, 
began  with  a  scrape  of  his  foot  and  a  scratch  of  his  head  in 
unison.  'I  am  Dandie  Dinmont,  sir,  of  the  Charlies-hope — 
the  Liddesdale  lad — ye'll  mind  me  ?  It  was  for  me  you  won 
yon  grand  plea.' 

'What  plea,  you  loggerhead?'  said  the  lawyer;  'd'ye 
think  I  can  remember  all  the  fools  that  come  to  plague  me?' 

'Lord,  sir,  it  was  the  grand  plea  about  the  grazing  o'  the 
Langtae-head,'   said  the   farmer. 

'Well,  curse  thee,  never  mind ; — give  me  the  memorial,' 
and  come  to  me  on  Monday  at  ten,'  replied  the  learned 
counsel. 

'But,  sir,  I  haena  got  ony  distinct  memorial.' 

'No  memorial,  man?'  said  Pleydell. 

'Na,  sir,  nae  memorial,'  answered  Dandie;  'for  your 
honour  said  before,  Mr.  Pleydell,  ye'll  mind,  that  ye 
liked  best  to  hear  us  hill-folk  tell  our  ain  tale  by  word  o' 
mouth.' 

^  The   Scottish   memorial   corresponds  to  the   English   brief. 


286  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Beshrew  my  tongue  that  said  so !'  answered  the  coun- 
sellor; 'it  will  cost  my  ears  a  dinning. — Well,  say  in  two 
words  what  you've  got  to  say — you  see  the  gentleman  waits.' 

'Ou,  sir,  if  the  gentleman  likes  he  may  play  his  ain  spring 
first ;  it 's  a'  ane  to  Dandie.' 

'Now,  you  looby,'  said  the  lawyer,  'cannot  you  conceive 
that  your  business  can  be  nothing  to  Colonel  Mannering, 
but  that  he  may  not  choose  to  have  these  great  ears  of 
thine  regaled  with  his  matters?' 

'Aweel,  sir,  just  as  you  and  he  like,  so  ye  see  to  my 
business,'  said  Dandie,  not  a  whit  disconcerted  by  the 
roughness  of  this  reception.  'We're  at  the  auld  wark  o' 
the  marches  again,  Jock  o'  Dawston  Cleugh  and  me.  Ye 
see  we  march  on  the  tap  o'  Touthop-rigg  after  we  pass  the 
Pomoragrains;  for  the  Pomoragrains,  and  Slackenspool, 
and  Bloodylaws,  they  come  in  there,  and  they  belang  to  the 
Peel;  but  after  ye  pass  Pomoragrains  at  a  muckle  great 
saucer-headed  cutlugged  stane,  that  they  ca'  Charlies 
Chuckle,  there  Dawston  Cleugh  and  Charlies-hope  they 
march.  Now,  I  say,  the  march  rins  on  the  tap  o'  the  hill 
where  the  wind  and  water  shears ;  but  Jock  o'  Dawston 
Cleugh  again,  he  contravenes  that,  and  says  that  it  bauds 
down  by  the  auld  drove-road  that  gaes  awa  by  the  Knot 
o'  the  Gate  owcr  to  Keeldar-ward — and  that  makes  an  unco 
difference.' 

'And  what  difference  does  it  make,  friend?'  said  Pley- 
dell.    'How  many  sheep  will  it  feed?' 

'Ou,  no  mony,'  said  Dandie,  scratching  his  head ;  'it 's 
lying  high  and  exposed — it  may  feed  a  hog,  or  aiblins  twa 
in  a  good  year.' 

'And  for  this  grazing,  which  may  be  worth  about  five 
shillings  a  year,  you  are  willing  to  throw  away  a  hundred 
pound  or  two?' 

'Na,  sir,  it 's  no  for  the  value  of  the  grass,'  replied  Din- 
mont,  'it 's  for  justice.' 

'My  good  friend,'  said  Pleydell,  'justice,  like  charity, 
should  begin  at  home.  Do  you  justice  to  your  wife  and 
family,  and  think  no  more  about  the  matter.' 

Dinmont  still  lingered,  twisting  his  hat  in  his  hand — 'It 's 
no  for  that,  sir, — but  I  would  like  ill  to  be  bragged  wi'  him; 


GUY    MANNERING  287 

— he  threeps  he'll  bring  a  score  of  witnesses  and  mair — and 
I'm  sure  there  's  as  mony  will  swear  for  me  as  for  him,  folk 
that  lived  a'  their  days  upon  the  Charlies-hope  and  wadna 
like  to  see  the  land  lose  its  right.' 

'Zounds,  man,  if  it  be  a  point  of  honour,'  said  the  lawyer, 
'why  don't  your  landlords  take  it  up?' 

'I  dinna  ken,  sir,'  (scratching  his  head  again)  "there's 
been  nac  election-dusts  lately,  and  the  lairds  arc  unco 
neighbourly,  and  Jock  and  me  cannot  get  them  to  yoke 
thegither  about  it  a'  that  we  can  say;  but  if  ye  thought  we 
might  keep  up  the  rent ' 

'No !  no  !  that  will  never  do,'  said  Pleydell ; — 'confound 
you,  why  don't  you  take  good  cudgels  and  settle  it?' 

'Od,  sir,'  answered  the  farmer,  'we  tried  that  three  times 
already — that 's  twice  on  the  land  and  ance  at  Lockerby 
fair.  But  I  dinna  ken — we're  baith  gey  good  at  singlestick, 
and  it  couldna  weel  be  judged.' 

'Then  take  broadswords,  and  be  d — d  to  you,  as  your 
fathers  did  before  you,  said  the  counsel  learned  in  the  law. 

'Aweel,  sir,  if  ye  think  it  wadna  be  again  the  law,  it's 
a'  ane  to  Dandie.' 

'Hold !  hold !'  exclaimed  Pleydell,  'we  shall  have  another 
Lord  Soulis's  mistake — Pr'ythee,  man,  comprehend  me;  I 
wish  you  to  consider  how  very  trifling  and  foolish  a  law- 
suit you  wish  to  engage  in.' 

'Aye,  sir?'  said  Dandie,  in  a  disappointed  tone.  'So  ye 
winna  take  on  wi'  me,  I'm  doubting?' 

'Me !  not  I — Go  home,  go  home,  take  a  pint  and  agree.' 
Dandie  looked  but  half  contented,  and  still  remained  sta- 
tionary.    'Anything  more,  my  friend?' 

'Only,  sir,  about  the  succession  of  this  leddy  that 's  dead, 
— auld  Miss  Margaret  Bertram  o'  Singlesidc.' 

'Aye,  what  about  her?'  said  the  counsellor,  rather 
surprised. 

"Ou,  we  have  nae  connexion  at  a'  wi'  the  Bertrams,'  said 
Dandie — 'they  were  grand  folk  by  the  like  o'  us. — But  Jean 
Liltup,  that  was  auld  Singleside's  housekeeper,  and  the 
mother  of  these  twa  young  ladies  that  are  gane — the  last  o' 
them  's  dead  at  a  ripe  age,  I  trow — Jean  Liltup  came  out 
o'   Liddel   water,  and  she  was  as  near  our  connexion  as 


388  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

second  cousin  to  my  mother's  half-sister.  She  drew  up  wi' 
Singleside,  nae  doubt,  when  she  was  his  housekeeper,  and 
it  was  a  sair  vex  and  grief  to  a'  her  kith  and  kin.  But  he 
acknowledged  a  marriage,  and  satisfied  the  kirk — and  now 
I  wad  ken  frae  you  if  we  hae  not  some  claim  by  law?' 

'Not  the  shadow  of  a  claim.' 

'Aweel,  we're  nae  puirer,'  said  Dandie, — 'but  she  mae 
hae  thought  on  us  if  she  was  minded  to  make  a  testament. — 
Weel,  sir,  I've  said  my  say — I'se  e'en  wish  you  good-night, 
and '  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

'No,  no,  my  friend;  I  never  take  fees  on  Saturday  night, 
or  without  a  memorial — away  with  you.  Dandie.'  And 
Dandie  made  his  reverence,  and  departed  accordingly. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

But  this  poor  farce  has  neither  truth,  nor  art, 
To  please  the  fancy  or  to  touch  the  heart. 
Dark  but  not  awful,  dismal  hut  yet  mean. 
With  anxious  bustle  moves  the  cumbrous  scene ; 
Presents  no  objects  tender  or  profound, 
But  spreads  its  cold  unmeaning  gloom  around. 

Parish   Register. 

'"VT'OUR  majesty,'  said  IManneriiig,  laughing,  'has  solem- 
\       nized    your    abdication    by    an    act    of    mercy    and 
-■-      charity. — That    fellow   will    scarce   think   of   going 
to  law.' 

'Oh,  you  are  quite  wrong,'  said  the  experienced  lawyer. 
'The  only  difference  is,  I  have  lost  my  client  and  my  fee. 
He'll  never  rest  till  he  finds  somebody  to  encourage  him  to 
commit  the  folly  he  has  predetermined. — No !  no !  I  have 
only  shown  you  another  weakness  of  my  character — I 
always  speak  truth  of  a  Saturday  night.' 

'And  sometimes  through  the  week,  I  should  think,'  said 
Mannering,  continuing  the  same  tone. 

'Why,  yes ;  as  far  as  my  vocation  will  permit.  I  am,  as 
Hamlet  says,  indifferent  honest,  when  my  clients  and  their 
solicitors  do  not  make  me  the  medium  of  conveying  their 
double-distilled  lies  to  the  bench.  But  oportet  vivere !  it  is 
a  sad  thing. — And  now  to  our  business.  I  am  glad  my  old 
friend  Mac-Morlan  has  sent  you  to  me ;  he  is  an  active, 
honest,  and   intelligent   man,   long   sheriff-substitute  of   the 

county  of  under  me,  and   still  holds  the  office.     He 

knows  I  have  a  regard  for  that  unfortunate  family  of  Ellan- 
gowan,  and  for  poor  Lucy.  I  have  not  seen  her  since  she 
was  twelve  years  old,  and  she  was  then  a  sweet  pretty  girl 
under  the  management  of  a  very  silly  father.  But  my 
interest  in  her  is  of  an  early  date.  I  was  called  upon, 
Mr.  Mannering,  being  then  sheriff  of  that  county,  to  investi- 
gate the  particulars  of  a  murder  which  had  been  committed 
near   Ellangowan   the   day   on   which   this   poor   child   was 

289 


290  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

born;  and  which,  by  a  strange  combination  that  I  was 
unhappily  not  able  to  trace,  involved  the  death  or  abstrac- 
tion of  her  only  brother,  a  boy  of  about  five  years  old. 
No,  Colonel,  I  shall  never  forget  the  misery  of  the  house  of 
Ellangowan  that  morning !— the  father  half-distracted— the 
mother  dead  in  premature  travail— the  helpless  infant,  with 
scarce  any  one  to  attend  it,  coming  wawling  and  crying 
into  this  miserable  world  at  such  a  moment  of  unutterable 
misery.  We  lawyers  are  not  of  iron,  sir,  or  of  brass,  any 
more  than  you  soldiers  are  of  steel.  We  are  conversant  with 
the  crimes  and  distresses  of  civil  society,  as  you  are  with 
those  that  occur  in  a  state  of  war — and  to  do  our  duty  in 
either  case,  a  little  apathy  is  perhaps  necessary. — But  the 
devil  take  a  soldier  whose  heart  can  be  as  hard  as  his  sword, 
and  his  dam  catch  the  lawyer  who  bronzes  his  bosom 
instead  of  his  forehead ! — But  come,  I  am  losing  my  Satur- 
day at  e'en — will  you  have  the  kindness  to  trust  me  with 
these  papers  which  relate  to  Miss  Bertram's  business?— 
And  stay — to-morrow  you'll  take  a  bachelor's  dinner  with  an 
old  lawyer, — I  insist  upon  it,  at  three  precisely — and  come 
an  hour  sooner. — The  old  lady  is  to  be  buried  on  Monday ;  it 
is  the  orphan's  cause,  and  we'll  borrow  an  hour  from  the 
Sunday  to  talk  over  this  business — although  I  fear  nothing 
can  be  done  if  she  has  altered  her  settlement — unless  per- 
haps it  occurs  within  the  sixty  days,  and  then  if  Miss  Ber- 
tram can  show  that  she  possesses  the  character  of  heir-at- 
law,  why 

'But,  hark!  my  lieges  are  impatient  of  their  interregnum 
— I  do  not  invite  you  to  rejoin  us.  Colonel;  it  would  be  a 
trespass  on  your  complaisance,  unless  you  had  begun  the 
day  with  us,  and  gradually  glided  on  from  wisdom  to  mirth, 
and  from  mirth  to — to — to — extravagance. — Good-night. — 
Harry,  go  home  with  Mr.  Mannering  to  his  lodging.— 
Colonel,  I  expect  you  at  a  little  past  two  to-morrow.' 

The  Colonel  returned  to  his  inn,  equally  surprised  at  the 
childish  frolics  in  which  he  had  found  his  learned  counsellor 
engaged,  at  the  candour  and  sound  sense  which  he  had 
in  a  moment  summoned  up  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  his 
profession,  and  at  the  tone  of  feeling  which  he  displayed 
when  he  spoke  of  the  friendless  orphan. 


GUY    MANXERIXG  291 

In  the  morning,  while  the  Colonel  and  his  most  quiet  and 
silent  of  all  retainers.  Dominie  Sampson,  were  finishing  the 
breakfast  which  Barnes  had  made  and  poured  out  after  the 
Dominie  had  scalded  himself  in  the  attempt,  Mr.  Pleydell 
was  suddenly  ushered  in.  A  nicely-dressed  bob-wig,  upon 
every  hair  of  which  a  zealous  and  careful  barber  had 
bestowed  its  proper  allowance  of  powder ;  a  well-brushed 
black  suit,  with  very  clean  shoes  and  gold  buckles  and  stock- 
buckle;  a  manner  rather  reserved  and  formal  than  intru- 
sive, but,  withal,  showing  only  the  formality  of  manner,  by 
no  means  that  of  awkwardness ;  a  countenance,  the  expres- 
sive and  somewhat  comic  features  of  which  were  in  com- 
plete repose, — all  showed  a  being  perfectly  different  from 
the  choice  spirit  of  the  evening  before.  A  glance  of  shrewd 
and  piercing  fire  in  his  eye  was  the  only  marked  expression 
which  recalled  the  man  of  'Saturday  at  e'en.' 

'I  am  come,'  said  he,  with  a  very  polite  address,  'to  use 
my  regal  authority  in  your  behalf  in  spirituals  as  well  as 
temporals — can  I  accompany  you  to  the  Presbyterian  kirk, 
or  Episcopal  meeting-house?  Tros  Tyrinsvc — a  lawyer, 
you  know,  is  of  both  religions,  or  rather  I  should  say  of  both 
forms — or  can  I  assist  in  passing  the  forenoon  otherwise? 
You'll  excuse  my  old-fashioned  importunity — I  was  born 
in  a  time  when  a  Scotchman  was  thought  inhospitable  if  he 
left  a  guest  alone  a  moment,  except  when  he  slept — but 
I  trust  you  will  tell  me  at  once  if  I  intrude.' 

'Not  at  all,  my  dear,  sir,'  answered  Colonel  Mannering — 
'I  am  delighted  to  put  myself  under  your  pilotage.  I  should 
wish  much  to  hear  some  of  your  Scottish  preachers  whose 
talents  have  done  such  honour  to  your  country — your 
Blair,  your  Robertson,  or  your  Henry;  and  I  embrace  your 
kind  offer  with  all  my  heart. — Only,'  drawing  the  lawyer 
a  little  aside,  and  turning  his  eye  towards  Sampson,  'my 
worthy  friend  there  in  the  reverie  is  a  little  helpless  and 
abstracted,  and  my  servant,  Barnes,  who  is  his  pilot  in 
ordinary,  cannot  well  assist  him  here,  especially  as  he  has 
expressed  his  determination  of  going  to  some  of  your  darker 
and  more  remote  places  of  worship.' 

The  lawyer's  eye  glanced  at  Dominie  Sampson.  'A 
curiosity  worth  preserving — and  I'll  find  you  a  fit  custodier. 


292  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

— Here  you,  sir,'  (to  the  waiter),  *go  to  Luckie  Finlayson's 
in  the  Cowgate  for  Miles  Macfin  the  cadie — he'll  be  there 
about  this  time, — and  tell  him  I  wish  to  speak  to  him.' 

The  person  wanted  soon  arrived.  'I  will  commit  your 
friend  to  this  man's  charge,'  said  Pleydell ;  'he'll  attend  him, 
or  conduct  him,  wherever  he  chooses  to  go,  with  a  happy 
indifference  as  to  kirk  or  market,  meeting  or  court  of  jus- 
tice, or — any  other  place  whatever,  and  bring  him  safe 
home  at  whatever  hour  you  appoint;  so  that  Mr.  Barnes 
there  may  be  left  to  the  freedom  of  his  own  will.' 

This  was  easily  arranged,  and  the  Colonel  committed  the 
Dominie  to  the  charge  of  this  man  while  they  should  remain 
in  Edinburgh. 

'And  now,  sir,  if  you  please,  we  shall  go  to  the  Greyfriars 
church,  to  hear  our  historian  of  Scotland,  of  the  Continent, 
and  of  America,' 

They  were  disappointed — he  did  not  preach  that  morning. 
— .'Never  mind,'  said  the  counsellor,  'have  a  moment's 
patience,  and  we  shall  do  very  well.' 

The  colleague  of  Dr.  Robertson  ascended  the  pulpit.* 
His  external  appearance  was  not  prepossessing.  A  remark- 
ably fair  complexion,  strangely  contrasted  with  a  black  wig 
without  a  grain  of  powder;  a  narrow  chest  and  a  stooping 
posture;  hands  which,  placed  like  props  on  either  side  of 
the  pulpit,  seemed  necessary  rather  to  support  the  person 
than  to  assist  the  gesticulation  of  the  preacher, — no  gown, 
not  even  that  of  Geneva,  a  tumbled  band,  and  a  gesture 
which  seemed  scarce  voluntary,  were  the  first  circumstances 
which  struck  a  stranger.  'The  preacher  seems  a  very  un- 
gainly person,'  whispered  Mannering  to  his  new  friend. 

'Never  fear;  he's  the  son  of  an  excellent  Scottish  lawyer* 
— he'll  show  blood,  I'll  warrant  him.' 

The  learned  counsellor  predicted  truly.  A  lecture  was 
delivered,  fraught  with  new,  striking,  and  entertaining 
views  of  Scripture  history — a  sermon,  in  which  the  Cal- 
vinism of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland  was  ably  supported,  yet  made 
the  basis   of   a   sound   system   of   practical   morals,    which 

*  This  was  the  celebrated  Dr.  Erskine,  a  distinguished  clergyman,  and  a 
most   excellent  man. 

^  The    father   of   Dr.    Erskine   was   an    eminent   lawyer,   and   his   Institutes 
of  the  Law  of  Scotland  are  to  this  day  the  textbook  of  students  of  that  science 


GUY    MANNERING  393 

should  neither  shelter  the  sinner  under  the  cloak  of  specu- 
lative faith  or  of  peculiarity  of  opinion,  nor  leave  him  loose 
to  the  waves  of  unbelief  and  schism.  Something  there  was 
of  an  antiquated  turn  of  argument  and  metaphor,  but  it 
only  served  to  give  zest  and  peculiarity  to  the  style  of 
elocution.  The  sermon  was  not  read — a  scrap  of  paper 
containing  the  heads  of  the  discourse  was  occasionally  re- 
ferred to,  and  the  enunciation,  which  at  first  seemed  im- 
perfect and  embarrassed,  became,  as  the  preacher  warmed 
in  his  progress,  animated  and  distinct;  and  although  the 
discourse  could  not  be  quoted  as  a  correct  specimen  of 
pulpit  eloquence,  yet  Mannering  had  seldom  heard  so  much 
learning,  metaphysical  acuteness,  and  energy  of  argument, 
brought  into  the  service  of  Christianity. 

'Such,'  he  said,  going  out  of  the  church,  'must  have  been 
the  preachers  to  whose  unfearing  minds,  and  acute,  though 
sometimes  rudely  exercised  talents,  we  owe  the  Reforma- 
tion.' 

'And  yet  that  reverend  gentleman.'  said  Pleydell,  'whom 
I  love  for  his  father's  sake  and  his  own,  has  nothing  of  the 
sour  or  pharisaical  pride  which  has  been  imputed  to  some 
of  the  early  fathers  of  the  Calvinstic  Kirk  of  Scotland.  His 
colleague  and  he  differ,  and  head  different  parties  in  the 
kirk,  about  particular  points  of  church  discipline,  but  with- 
out for  a  moment  losing  personal  regard  or  respect  for 
each  other,  or  suffering  malignity  to  interfere  in  an  opposi- 
tion, steady,  constant,  and  apparently  conscientious  on  both 
sides.' 

'And  you,  Mr.  Pleydell,  what  do  you  think  of  their  points 
of  difference?' 

'Why,  I  hope.  Colonel,  a  plain  man  may  go  to  heaven 
without  thinking  about  them  at  all; — besides,  inter  nos, 
I  am  a  member  of  the  suffering  and  Episcopal  Church  of 
Scotland — the  shadow  of  a  shade  now,  and  fortunately  so; 
— but  I  love  to  pray  where  my  fathers  prayed  before  me, 
without  thinking  worse  of  the  Presbyterian  forms  because 
they  do  not  affect  me  with  the  same  associations.'  And 
with  this  remark  they  parted  until  dinner-time. 

From  the  awkward  access  to  the  lawyer's  mansion,  Man- 
nering  was   induced   to    form   very   moderate    expectations 


294  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

of  the  entertainment  which  he  was  to  receive.  The  approach 
looked  even  more  dismal  by  daylight  than  on  the  preceding 
evening.  The  houses  on  each  side  of  the  lane  were  so  close, 
that  the  neighbours  might  have  shaken  hands  with  each 
other  from  the  different  sides,  and  occasionally  the  space 
between  was  traversed  by  wooden  galleries,  and  thus  en- 
tirely closed  up.  The  stair,  the  scale-stair,  was  not  well 
cleaned;  and  on  entering  the  house,  Mannering  was  struck 
with  the  narrowness  and  meanness  of  the  wainscotted  pas- 
sage. But  the  library,  into  which  he  was  shown  by  an 
elderly  respectable-looking  man-servant,  was  a  complete  con- 
trast to  these  unpromising  appearances.  It  was  a  well- 
proportioned  room,  hung  with  a  portrait  or  two  of  Scottish 
characters  of  eminence,  by  Jamieson,  the  Caledonian  Van- 
dyke, and  surrounded  with  books,  the  best  editions  of  the 
best  authors,  and  in  particular,  an  admirable  collection  of 
classics. 

'These,'  said  Pleydell,  'are  my  tools  of  trade.  A  lawyer 
without  history  or  literature  is  a  mechanic,  a  mere  working 
mason;  if  he  possesses  some  knowledge  of  these,  he  may 
venture  to  call  himself  an  architect.' 

But  Mannering  was  chiefly  delighted  with  the  view  from 
the  windows,  which  commanded  that  incomparable  prospect 
of  the  ground  between  Edinburgh  and  the  sea;  the  Frith 
of  Forth,  with  its  islands;  the  embayment  which  is  ter- 
minated by  the  Law  of  North  Berwick;  and  the  varied 
shores  of  Fife  to  the  northward,  indenting  with  a  hilly 
outline  the  clear  blue  horizon. 

When  Mr.  Pleydell  had  sufficiently  enjoyed  the  surprise 
of  his  guest,  he  called  his  attention  to  Miss  Bertram's 
affairs.  T  was  in  hopes,'  he  said,  'though  but  faint,  to  have 
discovered  some  means  of  ascertaining  her  indefeasible  right 
to  this  property  of  Singleside ;  but  my  researches  have 
been  in  vain.  The  old  lady  was  certainly  absolute  fiar, 
and  might  dispose  of  it  in  full  right  of  property.  All  that 
we  have  to  hope  is,  that  the  devil  may  not  have  tempted  her 
to  alter  this  very  proper  settlement.  You  must  attend  the 
old  girl's  funeral  to-morrow,  to  which  you  will  receive  an 
invitation,  for  I  have  acquainted  her  agent  with  your  being 
here  on  Miss  Bertram's  part;  and  I  will  meet  you  afterwards 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  295 

at  the  house  she  inhabited,  and  be  present  to  see  fair  play 
at  the  opening  of  the  settlement.  The  old  cat  had  a  little 
girl,  the  orphan  of  some  relation,  who  lived  with  her  as  a 
kind  of  slavish  companion.  T  hope  she  has  had  the  con- 
science to  make  her  independent,  in  consideration  of  the 
peine  forte  et  dure  to  which  she  subjected  her  during  her 
lifetime.' 

Three  gentlemen  now  appeared,  and  were  introduced  to 
the  stranger.  They  were  men  of  good  sense,  gaiety,  and 
general  information,  so  that  the  day  passed  very  pleasantly 
over;  and  Colonel  Mannering  assisted,  about  eight  o'clock 
at  night,  in  discussing  the  landlord's  bottle,  which  was  of 
course  a  magnum.  Upon  his  return  to  the  inn,  he  found 
a  card  inviting  him  to  the  funeral  of  Miss  Margaret  Bertram, 
late  of  Singleside,  which  was  to  proceed  from  her  own 
house  to  the  place  of  interment  in  the  Greyfriars  church- 
yard, at  one  o'clock  afternoon. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Mannering  went  to  a  small  house 
in  the  surburbs  to  the  southward  of  the  city,  where  he  found 
the  place  of  mourning,  indicated,  as  usual  in  Scotland,  by 
two  rueful  figures  with  long  black  cloaks,  white  crapes  and 
hat-bands,  holding  in  their  hands  poles,  adorned  with  melan- 
choly streamers  of  the  same  description.  By  two  other 
mutes,  who  from  their  visages  seemed  suftering  under  the 
pressure  of  some  strange  calamity,  he  was  ushered  into 
the  dining-parlour  of  the  defunct,  where  the  company  were 
assembled  for  the  funeral. 

In  Scotland,  the  custom,  now  disused  in  England,  of 
inviting  the  relations  of  the  deceased  to  the  interment,  is 
universally  retained.  On  many  occasions  this  has  a  singular 
and  striking  effect,  but  it  degenerates  into  mere  empty 
form  and  grimace,  in  cases  where  the  defunct  has  had  the 
misfortune  to  live  unbeloved  and  die  unlamented. — The 
English  service  for  the  dead,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
impressive  parts  of  the  ritual  of  the  Church,  would  have,  in 
such  cases,  the  effect  of  fixing  the  attention,  and  uniting 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  audience  present  in  an 
exercise  of  devotion  so  peculiarly  adapted  to  such  an  occa- 
sion. But,  according  to  the  Scottish  custom,  if  there  be 
not    real    feeling    among    the    assistants,    there    is    nothing 


296  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

to  supply  the  deficiency  and  exalt  or  rouse  the  attention; 
so  that  a  sense  of  tedious  form,  and  almost  hypocritical 
restraint,  is  too  apt  to  pervade  the  company  assembled  for 
the  mournful  solemnity.  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram  was  un- 
luckily one  of  those  whose  good  qualities  had  attached  no 
general  friendship.  She  had  no  near  relations  who  might 
have  mourned  from  natural  affection,  and  therefore  her 
funeral  exhibited  merely  the  exterior  trappings  of  sorrow. 

Mannering,  therefore,  stood  among  this  lugubrious  com- 
pany of  cousins  in  the  third,  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  de- 
gree, composing  his  countenance  to  the  decent  solemnity 
of  all  who  were  around  him,  and  looking  as  much  con- 
cerned on  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram's  account,  as  if  the  de- 
ceased lady  of  Singleside  had  been  his  own  sister  or  mother. 
After  a  deep  and  awful  pause,  the  company  began  to  talk 
aside — under  their  breaths,  however,  and  as  if  in  the  cham- 
ber of  a  dying  person. 

'Our  poor  friend,'  said  one  grave  gentleman,  scarcely 
opening  his  mouth,  for  fear  of  deranging  the  necessary 
solemnity  of  his  features,  and  sliding  his  whisper  from 
between  his  lips,  which  were  as  little  unclosed  as  possible — 
'our  poor  friend  has  died  well  to  pass  in  the  world.' 

'Nae  doubt,'  answered  the  person  addressed,  with  half- 
closed  eyes;  'poor  Mrs.  Margaret  was  ay  careful  of  the 
gear.' 

"Any  news  to-day,  Colonel  Mannering?'  said  one  of  the 
gentlemen  whom  he  had  dined  with  the  day  before,  but  in 
a  tone  which  might,  for  its  impressive  gravity,  have  com- 
municated the  death  of  his  whole  generation. 

'Nothing  particular,  I  believe,  sir/  said  Mannering,  in 
the  cadence  which  was,  he  observed,  appropriated  to  the 
house  of  mourning. 

'I  understand,'  continued  the  first  speaker,  emphatically, 
and  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  well  informed — 'I  under- 
stand there  is  a  settlement.' 

'And  what  does  little  Jenny  Gibson  get?' 

'A  hundred,   and  the  auld  repeater.' 

'That's  but  sma'  gear,  puir  thing;  she  had  a  sair  time 
o't  with  the  auld  leddy.  But  it  's  ill  waiting  for  dead  folk's 
shoon.' 


GUY    MANNERING  297 

'I  am  afraid,'  said  the  politician,  who  was  close  by  Man- 
nering,  'we  have  not  done  with  your  old  friend  Tippoo 
Saib  yet — I  doubt  he'll  give  the  Company  more  plague: 
and  I  am  told — but  you'll  know  for  certain — that  East 
India   Stock  is  not  rising.' 

*I   trust   it   will,   sir,    soon/ 

'Mrs.  Margaret,'  said  another  person,  mingling  in  the 
conversation,  'had  some  India  bonds.  I  know  that,  for 
I  drew  the  interest  for  her — it  would  be  desirable  now  for 
the  trustees  and  legatees  to  have  the  Colonel's  advice  about 
the  time  and  mode  of  converting  them  into  money.  For 
my  part  I  think — But  there  's  Mr.  Mortcloke  to  tell  us  they 
are  gaun  to  lift.' 

Mr.  Mortcloke  the  undertaker  did  accordingly,  with  a 
visage  of  professional  length  and  most  grievous  solemnity, 
distribute  among  the  pall-bearers  little  cards,  assigning  their 
respective  situations  in  attendance  upon  the  coffin.  As 
this  precedence  is  supposed  to  be  regulated  by  propinquity 
to  the  defunct,  the  undertaker,  however  skilful  a  master  of 
these  lugubrious  ceremonies,  did  not  escape  giving  some 
offence.  To  be  related  to  Mrs.  Bertram  was  to  be  of  kin  to 
the  lands  of  Singleside,  and  was  a  propinquity  of  which 
each  relative  present  at  that  moment  was  particularly 
jealous.  Some  murmurs  there  were  on  the  occasion,  and 
our  friend  Dinmont  gave  more  open  offence,  being  unable 
either  to  repress  his  discontent,  or  to  utter  it  in  the  key 
properly  modulated  to  the  solemnity.  T  think  ye  might 
hae  at  least  gi'en  me  a  leg  o'  her  to  carry,'  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  considerably  louder  than  propriety  admitted. 
'God!  an  it  hadna  been  for  the  rigs  o'  land,  I  would  hae 
gotten  her  a'  to  carry  mysell,  for  as  mony  gentles  as  are  here.' 

A  score  of  frowning  and  reproving  brows  were  bent 
upon  the  unappalled  yeoman,  who,  having  given  vent  to  his 
displeasure,  stalked  sturdily  downstairs  with  the  rest  of 
the  company,  totally  disregarding  the  censures  of  those 
whom  his  remarks  had   scandalized. 

And  then  the  funeral  pomp  set  forth ;  saulies  with  their 
batons,  and  gumphions  of  tarnished  white  crape,  in  honour 
of  the  well-preserved  maiden  fame  of  Mrs,  Margaret  Bert- 
ram.    Six  starved  horses,  themselves  the  very  emblems  of 


298  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

mortality,  well  cloaked  and  plumed,  lugging  along  the  hearse 
with  its  dismal  emblazonry,  crept  in  slow  state  towards  the 
place  of  interment,  preceded  by  Jamie  Duff,  an  idiot,  who 
with  weepers  and  cravat  made  of  white  paper,  attended 
on  every  funeral,  and  followed  by  six  mourning  coaches, 
filled  with  the  company. — Many  of  these  now  gave  more 
free  loose  to  their  tongues,  and  discussed  with  unrestrained 
earnestness  the  amount  of  the  succession,  and  the  prob- 
ability of  its  destination.  The  principal  expectants,  how- 
ever, kept  a  prudent  silence, — indeed,  ashamed  to  express 
hopes  which  might  prove  fallacious;  and  the  agent,  or 
man  of  business,  who  alone  knew  exactly  how  matters 
stood,  maintained  a  countenance  of  mysterious  importance, 
as  if  determined  to  preserve  the  full  interest  of  anxiety 
and   suspense. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  churchyard  gates,  and  from 
thence,  amid  the  gaping  of  two  or  three  dozen  of  idle 
women  with  infants  in  their  arms,  and  accompanied  by 
some  twenty  children  who  ran  gambolling  and  screaming 
alongside  of  the  sable  procession,  they  finally  arrived  at 
the  burial-place  of  the  Singleside  family.  This  was  a  square 
enclosure  in  the  Greyfriars  churchyard,  guarded  on  one  side 
by  a  veteran  angel,  without  a  nose  and  having  only  one 
wing,  who  had  the  merit  of  having  maintained  his  post 
for  a  century,  while  his  comrade  cherub,  who  had  stood 
sentinel  on  the  corresponding  pedestal,  lay  a  broken  trunk 
among  the  hemlock,  burdock,  and  nettles,  which  grew  in 
gigantic  luxuriance  around  the  walls  of  the  mausoleum. 
A  moss-grown  and  broken  inscription  informed  the  reader, 
that  in  the  year  1650  Captain  Andrew  Bertram,  first  of 
Singleside,  descended  of  the  very  ancient  and  honourable 
house  of  Ellangowan,  had  caused  this  monument  to  be  erected 
for  himself  and  his  descendants.  A  reasonable  number 
of  scythes  and  hour-glasses,  and  death's  heads,  and  cross 
bones,  garnished  the  following  sprig  of  sepulchral  poetry, 
to  the  memory  of  the  founder  of  the  mausoleum: — 

Nathaniel's  heart,  Bezaleel's  hand. 

If  ever  any  had, 
These  boldly  do  I  say  had  he, 

Who  lieth  in  this  bed. 


GUY    MANNERTNG  299 

Here  then,  amid  the  deep  black  fat  loam  into  which  her 
ancestors  were  now  resolved,  they  deposited  the  body  of 
Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram;  and,  like  soldiers  returning  from 
a  military  funeral,  the  nearest  relations  who  might  be 
interested  in  the  settlements  of  the  lady,  urged  the  dog- 
cattle  of  the  hackney  coaches  to  all  the  speed  of  which  they 
were  capable,  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  further  suspense 
on  that  interesting  topic. 


D— II 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

Die  and  endow  a  college  or  a  cat. 

Pope. 

THERE  is  a  fable  told  by  Lucian,  that  while  a  troop  of 
monkeys,  well  drilled  by  an  intelligent  manager, 
were  performing  a  tragedy  with  great  applause,  the 
decorum  of  the  whole  scene  was  at  once  destroyed,  and  the 
natural  passion  of  the  actors  called  forth  in  a  very  indecent 
and  active  emulation,  by  a  wag  who  threw  a  handful  of 
nuts  upon  the  stage.  In  like  manner,  the  approaching  crisis 
stirred  up  among  the  expectants  feelings  of  a  nature  very 
different  from  those  of  which,  under  the  superintendence 
of  Mr.  Mortcloke,  they  had  but  now  been  endeavouring  to 
imitate  the  expression.  Those  eyes  which  were  lately  cast 
up  to  heaven,  or  with  greater  humility  bent  solemnly  upon 
earth,  were  now  sharply  and  alertly  darting  their  glances 
through  shuttles,  and  trunks,  and  drawers,  and  cabinets,  and 
all  the  odd  corners  of  an  old  maiden  lady's  repositories. 
Nor  was  their  search  without  interest,  though  they  did 
not  find  the  will  of  which  they  were  in  quest. 

Here  was  a  promissory-note  for  £20  by  the  minister  of 
the  nonjuring  chapel,  interest  marked  as  paid  to  Martinmas 
last,  carefully  folded  up  in  a  new  set  of  words  to  the  old 
tune  of  'Over  the  Water  to  Charlie ;' — there,  was  a  curious 
love  correspondence  between  the  deceased  and  a  certain 
Lieutenant  O'Kean,  of  a  marching  regiment  of  foot ;  and 
tied  up  with  the  letters  was  a  document,  which  at  once 
explained  to  the  relatives  why  a  connexion  that  boded  them 
little  good  had  been  suddenly  broken  off,  being  the  Lieu- 
tenant's bond  for  two  hundred  pounds,  upon  which  no 
interest  whatever  appeared  to  have  been  paid.  Other  bills 
and  bonds  to  a  larger  amount,  and  signed  by  better  names 
(I  mean  commercially)  than  those  of  the  worthy  divine 
and  gallant  soldier,  also  occurred  in  the  course  of  their 
researches,    besides   a   hoard    of   coins   of    every    size    and 

300 


1 


GUY    MANNERIXG  301 

denomination,  and  scraps  of  broken  gold  and  silver,  old 
ear-rings,  hinges  of  cracked  snuff-boxes,  mountings  of 
spectacles,  &c.  &c.  &c.  Still  no  will  made  its  appearance, 
and  Colonel  Mannering  began  full  well  to  hope  that  the 
settlement  which  he  had  obtained  from  Glossin  contained 
the  ultimate  arrangement  of  the  old  lady's  affairs.  But 
his  friend  Pleydell,  who  now  came  into  the  room,  cautioned 
him  against  entertaining  this  belief. 

'I  am  well  acquainted  with  the  gentleman,'  he  said,  'who 
is  conducting  the  search,  and  I  guess  from  his  manner 
that  he  knows  something  more  of  the  matter  than  any  of 
us.'  Meantime,  while  the  search  proceeds,  let  us  take  a 
brief  glance  at  one  or  two  of  the  company,  who  seem  most 
interested. 

Of  Dinmont,  who,  with  his  large  hunting-whip  under  his 
arm,  stood  poking  his  great  round  face  over  the  shoulder  of 
the  hommc  d'affaires,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  anything. 
That  thin-looking  oldish  person,  in  a  most  correct  and  gentle- 
man-like suit  of  mourning,  is  Mac-Casquil,  formerly  of 
Drumquag,  who  was  ruined  by  having  a  legacy  bequeathed 
to  him  of  two  shares  in  the  Ayr  bank.  His  hopes  on  the 
present  occasion  are  founded  on  a  very  distant  relationship, 
upon  his  sitting  in  the  same  pew  with  the  deceased  every 
Sunday,  and  upon  his  playing  at  cribbage  with  her  regu- 
larly on  the  Saturday  evenings — taking  great  care  never 
to  come  off  a  winner.  That  other  coarse-looking  man. 
wearing  his  own  greasy  hair  tied  in  a  leathern  cue  more 
greasy  still,  is  a  tobacconist,  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Bertram's 
mother,  who,  having  a  good  stock  in  trade  when  the  colonial 
war  broke  out,  trebled  the  price  of  his  commodity  to  all 
the  world,  Mrs.  Bertram  alone  excepted,  whose  tortoise- 
shell  snuff-box  was  weekly  filled  with  the  best  rappee  at  the 
old  prices,  because  the  maid  brought  it  to  the  shop  with 
Mrs.  Bertram's  respects  to  her  cousin  Mr.  Quid.  That 
young  fellow,  who  has  not  had  the  decency  to  put  off  his 
boots  and  buckskins,  might  have  Stood  as  forward  as  most 
of  them  in  the  graces  of  the  old  lady,  who  loved  to  look 
upon  a  comely  young  man ;  but  it  is  thought  he  has  for- 
feited the  moment  of  fortune,  by  sometimes  neglecting 
her  tea-table  when  solemnly  invited;  sometimes  appearing 


303  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

there,  when  he  had  been  dining  with  blither  company ;  twice 
treading  upon  her  cat's  tail,  and  once  affronting  her  parrot. 

To  Mannering,  the  most  interesting  of  the  group  was  the 
poor  girl,  who  had  been  a  sort  of  humble  companion  of  the 
deceased,  as  a  subject  upon  whom  she  could  at  all  times 
expectorate  her  bad  humour.  She  was  for  form's  sake 
dragged  into  the  room  by  the  deceased's  favourite  female 
attendant,  where,  shrinking  into  a  corner  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble, she  saw  with  wonder  and  affright  the  intrusive  re- 
searches of  the  strangers  amongst  those  recesses  to  which 
from  childhood  she  had  looked  with  awful  veneration.  This 
girl  was  regarded  with  an  unfavourable  eye  by  all  the  com- 
petitors, honest  Dinmont  only  excepted ;  the  rest  conceived 
they  should  find  in  her  a  formidable  competitor;  whose 
claims  might  at  least  encumber  and  diminish  their  chance 
of  succession.  Yet  she  was  the  only  person  present  who 
seemed  really  to  feel  sorrow  for  the  deceased.  Mrs.  Ber- 
tram had  been  her  protectress,  although  from  selfish  motives, 
— 7and  her  capricious  tyranny  was  forgotten  at  the  moment, 
while  the  tears  followed  each  other  fast  down  the  cheeks 
of  her  frightened  and  friendless  dependant.  'There's  ower 
muckle  saut  water  there,  Drumquag.'  said  the  tobacconist 
to  the  ex-proprietor,  'to  bode  ither  folk  muckle  gude. 
Folk  seldom  greet  that  gate  but  they  ken  what  it's  for.' 
Mr.  Mac-Casquil  only  replied  with  a  nod,  feeling  the  pro- 
priety of  asserting  his  superior  gentry  in  presence  of  Mr. 
Pleydell  and  Colonel  Mannering. 

'Very  queer  if  there  suld  be  nae  will  after  a',  friend,'  said 
Dinmont,  who  began  to  grow  impatient,  to  the  man  of 
business. 

'A  moment's  patience,  if  you  please — she  was  a  good 
and  prudent  woman,  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram — a  good  and 
prudent  and  well-judging  woman,  and  knew  how  to  choose 
friends  and  depositories;  she  may  have  put  her  last  will 
and  testament,  or  rather  her  mortis  causa  settlement,  as  it 
relates  to  heritage,  into  the  hands  of  some  safe  friend.' 

'I'll  bet  a  rump  and  dozen,'  said  Pleydell,  whispering  to 
the  Colonel,  'he  has  got  it  in  his  own  pocket ;' — then  address- 
ing the  man  of  law,  'Come,  sir,  we'll  cut  this  short  if  you 
please — here    is   a   settlement   of   the   estate  of   Singleside, 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  303 

executed  several  years  ago,  in  favour  of  Miss  Lucy  Bertram 

of  Ellangowan," The  company  stared  fearfully  wild.  'You, 

I  presume,  Mr.  Protocol,  can  inform  us  if  there  is  a  later 
deed?' 

'Please  to  favour  me,  Mr.  Pleydell ;'— and  so  saying,  he 
took  the  deed  out  of  the  learned  counsel's  hand,  and  glanced 
his  eye  over  the  contents. 

'Too  cool,'  said  Pleydell,  'too  cool  by  half— he  has  another 
deed  in  his  pocket  still.' 

'Why  does  he  not  show  it  then,  and  be  d — d  to  him!' 
said  the  military  gentleman,  whose  patience  began  to  wax 
threadbare. 

'Why,  how  should  I  know?'  answered  the  barrister — 
'why  does  a  cat  not  kill  a  mouse  when  she  takes  him? — the 
consciousness  of  power  and  the  love  of  teasing,  I  suppose. — 
Well,  Mr,  Protocol,  what  say  you  to  that  deed  ?' 

'Why,  Mr.  Pleydell,  the  deed  is  a  well-drawn  deed,  properly 
authenticated  and  tested  in  forms  of  the  statute.' 

'But  recalled  or  superseded  by  another  of  posterior  date 
in  your  possession,  eh?"  said  the  counsellor. 

'Something  of  the  sort,  I  confess.  Mr.  Pleydell,'  rejoined 
the  man  of  business,  producing  a  bundle  tied  with  tape,  and 
sealed  at  each  fold  and  ligation  with  black  wax.  'That 
deed,  Mr.  Pleydell  which  you  produce  and  found  upon,  is 
dated  ist  of  June  17 — ;  but  this' — breaking  the  seals  and 
unfolding  the  document  slowly — 'is  dated  the  20th— no,  I 
see  it  is  the  21st,  of  April  of  this  present  year,  being  ten 
years  posterior.' 

'Marry,  hang  her,  brock!'  said  the  counsellor,  borrowing 
an  exclamation  from  Sir  Toby  Belch — 'just  the  month  in 
which  Ellangowan's  distresses  became  generally  public.  But 
let  us  hear  what  she  has  done.' 

Mr.  Protocol  accordingly,  having  required  silence,  began 
to  read  the  settlement  aloud  in  a  slow,  steady,  business-like 
tone.  The  group  around,  in  whose  eyes  hope  alternately 
awakened  and  faded,  and  who  were  straining  their  ap- 
prehensions to  get  at  the  drift  of  the  testator's  meaning 
through  the  mist  of  technical  language  in  which  the  con- 
veyance had  involved  it,  might  have  made  a  study  for 
Hogarth. 


304  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

The  deed  was  of  an  unexpected  nature.  It  set  forth  with 
conveying  and  disponing  all  and  whole  the  estate  and  lands 
of  Singleside  and  others,  with  the  lands  of  Loverless,  Lie- 
alone,  Spinster's  Knowe,  and  heaven  knows  what  beside,  'to 
and  in  favours  of  (here  the  reader  softened  his  voice  to  a 
gentle  and  modest  piano)  'Peter  Protocol,  clerk  to  the  signet, 
having  the  fullest  confidence  in  his  capacity  and  integrity — 
(these  are  the  very  words  which  my  worthy  deceased  friend 
insisted  upon  my  inserting) — But  in  trust  always'  (here 
the  reader  recovered  his  voice  and  style,  and  the  visages  of 
several  of  the  hearers,  which  had  attained  a  longitude  that 
Mr.  Mortcloke  might  have  envied,  were  perceptibly  short- 
ened) 'in  TRUST  always,  and  for  the  uses,  ends,  and  purposes 
hereinafter  mentioned.' 

In  these  'uses,  ends,  and  purposes,'  lay  the  cream  of  the 
affair.  The  first  was  introduced  by  a  preamble  setting  forth, 
that  the  testatrix  was  lineally  descended  from  the  ancient 
house  of  EllagowaU;  her  respected  great-grandfather,  An- 
drew Bertram,  first  of  Singleside,  of  happy  memory,  having 
been  second  son  to  Allan  Bertram,  fifteenth  Baron  of  Ellan- 
gowan.  It  proceeded  to  state,  that  Henry  Bertram,  son 
and  heir  of  Godfrey  Bertram,  now  of  Ellangowan,  had 
been  stolen  from  his  parents  in  infancy,  but  that  she,  the 
testatrix,  was  well  assured  that  he  was  yet  alive  in  foreign 
parts,  and  by  the  providence  of  heaven  would  be  restored  to 
the  possessions  of  his  ancestors — in  which  case  the  said 
Peter  Protocol  was  bound  and  obliged,  like  as  he  bound  and 
obliged  himself,  by  acceptance  of  these  presents,  to  denude 
himself  of  the  said  lands  of  Singleside  and  others,  and  of 
all  the  other  effects  thereby  conveyed  (excepting  always 
a  proper  gratification  for  his  own  trouble)  to  and  in  favour 
of  the  said  Henry  Bertram,  upon  his  return  to  his  native 
country.  And  during  the  time  of  his  residing  in  foreign 
parts,  or  in  case  of  his  never  again  returning  to  Scotland, 
Mr.  Peter  Protocol,  the  trustee,  was  directed  to  distribute 
the  rents  of  the  land,  and  interest  of  the  other  funds  (deduct- 
ing always  a  proper  gratification  for  his  trouble  in  the 
premises)  in  equal  portions,  among  four  charitable  establish- 
ments pointed  out  in  the  will.  The  power  of  management, 
of  letting  leases,  of  raising  and  lending  out  money,  in  short. 


I 


GUY    MANNERING  305 

the  full  authority  of  a  proprietor,  was  vested  in  this  con- 
fidential trustee,  and,  in  the  event  of  his  death,  went  to 
certain  other  official  persons  named  in  the  deed.  There  were 
only  two  legacies, — one  of  a  hundred  pounds  to  a  favourite 
waiting-maid,  another  of  the  like  sum  to  Janet  Gibson 
(whom  the  deed  stated  to  have  been  supported  by  the  charity 
of  the  testatrix)  for  the  purpose  of  binding  her  an  apprentice 
to  some  honest  trade. 

A  settlement  in  mortmain  is  in  Scotland  termed  a  morti- 
ficotion,  and  in  one  great  borough  (Aberdeen,  if  I  remember 
rightly)  there  is  a  municipal  officer  who  takes  care  of  these 
public  endowments,  and  is  thence  called  the  Master  of 
Mortifications.  •  One  would  almost  presume  that  the  term 
had  its  origin  in  the  effect  which  such  settlements  usually 
produce  upon  the  kinsmen  of  those  by  whom  they  are 
executed.  Heavy  at  least  was  the  mortification  which  befell 
the  audience,  who,  in  the  late  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram's 
parlour,  had  listened  to  this  unexpected  destination  of  the 
lands  of  Singleside.  There  was  a  profound  silence  after  the 
deed  had  been  read  over. 

Mr.  Pleydell  was  the  first  to  speak.  He  begged  to  look 
at  the  deed,  and  having  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  correctly 
drawn  and  executed,  he  returned  it  without  any  observation, 
only  saying  aside  to  Mannering,  'Protocol  is  not  worse  than 
other  people,  I  believe ;  but  this  old  lady  has  determined, 
that  if  he  do  not  turn  rogue,  it  shall  not  be  for  want  of 
temptation.' 

T  really  think,'  said  Mr,  Mac-Casquil  of  Drumquag,  who, 
having  gulped  down  one  half  of  his  vexation,  determined 
to  give  vent  to  the  rest — 'I  really  think  this  is  an  extra- 
ordinary case  !  I  should  like  now  to  know  from  Mr.  Protocol, 
who.  being  sole  and  unlimited  trustee,  must  have  been 
consulted  upon  this  occasion — T  should  like,  I  say,  to  know, 
how  Mrs.  Bertram  could  possibly  believe  in  the  existence 
of  a  boy  that  a'  the  world  kens  was  murdered  many  a  year 
since?' 

'Really,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Protocol,  T  do  not  conceive  it  is 
possible  for  me  to  explain  her  motives  more  than  she  has 
done  herself.  Our  excellent  deceased  friend  was  a  good 
woman,  sir — a  pious  woman — and  might  have  grounds  for 


306  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

confidence  in  the  boy's  safety  which  are  not  accessible  to 
us,  sir.' 

'Hout,'  said  the  tobacconist,  'I  ken  very  weel  what  were 
her  grounds  for  confidence.  There's  Mrs.  Rebecca  (the 
maid)  sitting  there,  has  tell'd  me  a  hundred  times  in  my  ain 
shop,  there  was  nae  kenning  how  her  leddy  wad  settle  her 
affairs,  for  an  auld  gipsy  witch  wife  at  Gilsland  had  possessed 
her  with  a  notion  that  the  callant — Harry  Bertram  ca's 
she  him? — would  come  alive  again  some  day  after  a' — ye'U 
no  deny  that,  Mrs.  Rebecca? — though  I  dare  to  say  ye 
forgot  to  put  your  mistress  in  mind  of  what  ye  promised 
to  say  when  I  gied  ye  mony  a  half-crown — But  ye'll  no 
deny  what  I  am  saying  now,  lass?' 

T  ken  naething  at  a'  about  it.'  answered  Rebecca  dog- 
gedly, and  looking  straight  forward  with  the  firm  coun- 
tenance of  one  not  disposed  to  be  compelled  to  remember 
more  than  was  agreeable  to  her. 

'Weel  said,  Rebecca !  ye're  satisfied  wi'  your  ain  share, 
ony  way.'  rejoined  the  tobacconist. 

The  buck  of  the  second-head,  for  a  buck  of  the  first-head 
he  was  not,  had  hitherto  been  slapping  his  boots  with  his 
switch-whip,  and  looking  like  a  spoiled  child  that  has  lost 
its  supper.  His  murmurs,  however,  were  all  vented  in- 
wardly, or  at  most  in  a  soliloquy  such  as  this — T  am  sorry, 
by  G — d,  I  ever  plagued  myself  about  her — I  came  here, 
by  God,  one  night  to  drink  tea,  and  I  left  King,  and  the 
Duke's  rider.  Will  Hack.  They  were  toasting  a  round  of 
running  horses ;  by  G — d.  I  might  have  got  leave  to  wear 
the  jacket  as  well  as  other  folk  if  I  had  carried  it  on  with 
them — and  she  has  not  so  much  as  left  me  that  hundred  !' 

'We'll  make  the  payment  of  the  note  quite  agreeable,' 
said  Mr.  Protocol,  who  had  no  wish  to  increase  at  that 
moment  the  odium  attached  to  his  office — 'And  now.  gentle- 
men, I  fancy  we  have  no  more  to  wait  for  here,  and — I 
shall  put  the  settlement  of  my  excellent  and  worthy  friend 
on  record  to-morrow,  that  every  gentleman  may  examine 
the  contents  and  have  free  access  to  take  an  extract; 
and' — he  proceeded  to  lock  up  the  repositories  of  the  de- 
ceased with  more  speed  than  he  had  opened  them — 'Mrs. 
Rebecca,  ye'll  be   so  kind  as  to  keep  all   right  here  until 


GUY    MANNERING  307 

we  can  let  the  house — I  had  an  offer  from  a  tenant  this 
morning,  if  such  a  thing  should  be,  and  if  I  was  to  have 
any  management.' 

Our  friend  Dinmont,  having  had  his  hopes  as  well  as 
another,  had  hitherto  sat  sulky  enough  in  the  arm-chair 
formerly  appropriated  to  the  deceased,  and  in  which  she 
would  have  been  not  a  little  scandalized  to  have  seen  this 
colossal  specimen  of  the  masculine  gender  lolling  at  length. 
His  employment  had  been  rolling  up,  into  the  form  of  a 
coiled  snake,  the  long  lash  of  his  horse-whip,  and  then  by 
a  jerk  causing  it  to  unroll  itself  into  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
The  first  words  he  said  when  he  had  digested  the  shock, 
contained  a  magnanimous  declaration,  which  he  probably 
was  not  conscious  of  having  uttered  aloud — 'Weel, — blude's 
thicker  than  water — she's  welcome  to  the  cheeses  and  the 
hams  just  the  same.'  But  when  the  trustee  had  made  the 
above-mentioned  motion  for  the  mourners  to  depart,  and 
talked  of  the  house  being  immediately  let,  honest  Dinmont 
got  upon  his  feet,  and  stunned  the  company  with  this  blunt 
question,  'And  what's  to  come  o'  this  poor  lassie  then,  Jenny 
Gibson?  Sae  mony  o"  us  as  thought  oursells  sib  to  the 
family  when  the  gear  was  parting,  we  may  do  something  for 
her  amang  us  surely.' 

This  proposal  seemed  to  dispose  most  of  the  assembly 
instantly  to  evacuate  the  premises,  although  upon  Mr. 
Protocol's  motion  they  had  lingered  as  if  around  the  grave 
of  their  disappointed  hopes.  Drumquag  said,  or  rather  mut- 
tered, something  of  having  a  family  of  his  own,  and  took 
precedence,  in  virtue  of  his  gentle  blood,  to  depart  as  fast 
as  possible.  The  tobacconist  sturdily  stood  forward,  and 
scouted  the  motion— 'A  little  huzzie  like  that  was  weel 
enough  provided  for  already;  and  Mr.  Protocol,  at  ony 
rate,  was  the  proper  person  to  take  direction  of  her,  as  he 
had  charge  of  her  legacy:'  and  after  uttering  such  his 
opinion  in  a  steady  and  decisive  tone  of  voice,  he  also  left 
the  place.  The  buck  made  a  stupid  and  brutal  attempt  at 
a  jest  upon  Mrs.  Bertram's  recommendation  that  the  poor 
girl  should  be  taught  some  honest  trade;  but  encountered 
a  scowl  from  Colonel  Mannering's  darkening  eye  (to  whom, 
in  his  ignorance  of  the  tone  of  good  society,  he  had  looked 


308  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

for  applause)  that  made  him  ache  to  the  very  back-bone. 
He  shuffled  downstairs,  therefore,  as  fast  as  possible. 

Protocol,  who  was  really  a  good  sort  of  man,  next  ex- 
pressed his  intention  to  take  a  temporary  charge  of  the 
young  lady,  under  protest  always,  that  his  so  doing  should 
be  considered  as  merely  eleemosynary ;  when  Dinmont  at 
length  got  up,  and,  having  shaken  his  huge  dreadnought 
great-coat  as  a  Newfoundland  dog  does  his  shaggy  hide 
when  he  comes  out  of  the  water,  ejaculated,  'Weel,  deil  hae 
me  then,  if  ye  hae  ony  fash  wi'  her,  Mr.  Protocol — if  she 
likes  to  gang  hame  wi'  me,  that  is.  Ye  see,  Ailie  and  me 
we're  weel  to  pass,  and  we  would  like  the  lassies  to  hae  a 
wee  bit  mair  lair  than  oursells,  and  to  be  neighbour-like- 
that  wad  we. — And  ye  see  Jenny  canna  miss  but  to  ken 
manners,  and  the  like  o'  reading  books,  and  sewing  seams — 
having  lived  sae  lang  wi'  a  grand  lady  like  Lady  Singleside ; 
or  if  she  disna  ken  onything  about  it,  I'm  jealous  that  our 
bairns  will  like  her  a'  the  better.  And  I'll  take  care  o'  the 
bits  o'  claes,  and  what  spending  siller  she  maun  hae ;  so 
the  hundred  pound  may  rin  on  in  your  hands,  Mr.  Protocol, 
and  I'll  be  adding  something  till't,  till  she'll  maybe  get  a 
Liddesdale  joe  that  wants  something  to  help  to  buy  the 
liirsel.^ — What  d'ye  saw  to  that,  hinney?  I'll  take  out  a 
ticket  for  ye  in  the  fly  to  Jethart — Od,  but  ye  maun  take 
a  powny  after  that  o'er  the  Limestane-rig — deil  a  wheeled 
carriage  ever  gaed  into  Liddesdale.'' — And  I'll  be  very  glad 
if  Mrs.  Rebecca  comes  wi'  you,  hinny,  and  stays  a  month 
or  twa  while  ye're  stranger-like.' 

While  Mrs.  Rebecca  was  curtsying  and  endeavouring  to 
make  the  poor  orphan  girl  curtsy  instead  of  crying,  and 
while  Dandie,  in  his  rough  way.  was  encouraging  them 
both,  old  Pleydell  had  recourse  to  his  snuff-box.  'It's  meat 
and  drink  to  me,  now,  Colonel,'  he  said,  as  he  recovered 
himself,  'to  see  a  clown  like  this 1  must  gratify  him  in 

1  The  stock  of  sheep. 

-  The  roads  of  Liddesdale,  in  Dandie  Dinmont's  days,  could  not  be 
said  to  exist,  and  the  district  was  only  accessible  through  a  succession  of 
tremendous  morasses.  About  thirty  years  ago,  the  author  himself  was  the 
first  person  who  ever  drove  a  little  open  carriage  into  these  wilds;  the 
excellent  roads  by  which  they  are  now  traversed  being  then  in  some 
progress.  The  people  stared  with  no  small  wonder  at  a  sight  which  many 
of  them  had  never  witnessed  in  their  lives  before. 


GUY    MANNERING  309 

his  own  way — must  assist  him  to  ruin  himself; — there's  no 
help  for  it.  Here,  you  Liddesdale  Dandie — Charlies-hope — 
what  do  they  call  you?' 

The  farmer  turned,  infinitely  gratified  even  by  this  sort 
of  notice ;  for  in  his  heart,  next  to  this  own  landlord,  he 
honoured  a  lawyer  in  high  practice. 

'So  you  will  not  be  advised  against  trying  that  question 
about  your  marches?' 

'No — no,  sir — naebody  likes  to  lose  their  right,  and  to  be 
laughed  at  down  the  haill  water.  But  since  your  honour's 
no  agreeable,  and  is  maybe  a  friend  to  the  other  side  like, 
we  maun  try  some  other  advocate.' 

'There — I  told  you  so,  Colonel  Mannering ! — Well,  sir, 
if  you  must  needs  be  a  fool,  the  business  is  to  give  you  the 
luxury  of  a  lawsuit  at  the  least  possible  expense,  and  to 
bring  you  off  conqueror  if  possible.  Let  Mr.  Protocol  send 
me  your  papers,  and  I  will  advise  him  how  to  conduct  your 
cause.  I  don't  see,  after  all,  why  you  should  not  have  your 
lawsuits  too,  and  your  feuds  in  the  Court  of  Sessions,  as 
well  as  your  forefathers  had  their  manslaughters  and  fire- 
raisings.' 

'Very  natural,  to  be  sure,  sir.  We  wad  just  take  the  auld 
gate  as  readily,  if  it  werena  for  the  law.  And  as  the  law 
binds  us,  the  law  should  loose  us.  Besides,  a  man's  ay  the 
better  thought  o'  in  our  country  for  having  been  afore  the 
Fcifteen.' 

'Excellently  argued,  my  friend !  Away  with  you,  and  send 
your  papers  to  me. — Come,  Colonel,  we  have  no  more  to  do 
here.' 

'God,  we'll  ding  Jock  o'  Dawston  Cleugh  now,  after  a' !' 
said  Dinmont,  slapping  his  thigh  in  great  exultation. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

I  am  going  to  the  parliament ; 


'S 


You  understand  this  bag.     If  you  have  any  business 
Depending  there,  be  short,  and  let  me  hear  it. 
And  pay  your  fees. 

Little  French  Lawyer. 

HALL  you  be  able  to  carry  this  honest  fellow's  cause 
for  him?'  said  Manncring. 
'Why,  I  don't  know;  the  battle  is  not  to  the  strong, 
but  he  shall  come  off  triumphant  over  Jock  of  Dawston  if  we 
can  make  it  out.  I  owe  him  something.  It  is  the  pest  of  our 
profession,  that  we  seldom  see  the  best  side  of  human  nature. 
People  come  to  us  with  every  selfish  feeling  newly  pointed 
and  grinded ;  they  turn  down  the  very  caulkers  of  their  ani- 
mosities and  prejudices,  as  smiths  do  with  horses'  shoes  in 
a  white  frost.  ]\Iany  a  man  has  come  to  my  garret  yonder, 
that  I  have  at  first  longed  to  pitch  out  at  the  window,  and 
yet,  at  length,  have  discovered  that  he  was  only  doing  as  I 
might  have  done  in  his  case,  being  very  angry,  and,  of 
course,  very  unreasonable.  I  have  now  satisfied  myself, 
that  if  our  profession  sees  more  of  human  folly  and  human 
roguery  than  others,  it  is  because  we  witness  them  acting  in 
that  channel  in  which  they  can  most  freely  vent  themselves. 
In  civilized  society,  law  is  the  chimney  through  which  all 
that  smoke  discharges  itself  that  used  to  circulate  through 
the  whole  house,  and  put  every  one's  eyes  out — no  wonder, 
therefore,  that  the  vent  itself  should  sometimes  get  a  little 
sooty.  But  we  will  take  care  our  Liddesdale  man's  cause  is 
well  conducted  and  well  argued,  so  all  unnecessary  expense 
will  be  saved — he  shall  have  his  pineapple  at  wholesale 
price.' 

'Will  you  do  me  the  pleasure,'  said  Mannering,  as  they 
parted,  'to  dine  with  me  at  my  lodgings?  my  landlord  says 
he  has  a  bit  of  red-deer  venison,  and  some  excellent  wine.' 

'Venison — eh?'  answered  the  counsellor  alertly,  but  pres- 
ently added — 'But  no !  it's  impossible — and  I  can't  ask  you 

310 


I 


GUY    MANNERING  311 

home  neither.  Monday's  a  sacred  day — so's  Tuesday — and 
Wednesday,  we  are  to  be  heard  in  the  great  teind  case 
in  presence — But  stay — it's  frosty  weather,  and  if  you  don't 
leave  town,  and  that  venison  would  keep  till  Thursday' 

'You  will  dine  with  me  that  day?' 

'Under  certification.' 

"Well,  then,  I  will  indulge  a  thought  I  had  of  spending  a 
week  here;  and  if  the  venison  will  not  keep,  why  we  will  see 
what  else  our  landlord  can  do  for  us.' 

'Oh,  the  venison  will  keep,'  said  Plcydell.  'And  now  good- 
bye; — look  at  these  two  or  three  notes,  and  deliver  them  if 
you  like  the  addresses ;  I  wrote  them  for  you  this  morning. 
Farewell;  my  clerk  has  been  waiting  this  hour  to  begin  a 
d — d  information.'— And  away  walked  Mr.  Pleydell  with 
great  activity,  diving  through  closes  and  ascending  covered 
stairs,  in  order  to  attain  the  High  Street  by  an  access,  which, 
compared  to  the  common  route,  was  what  the  straits  of  Ma- 
gellan are  to  the  more  open  but  circuitous  passage  round 
Cape  Horn. 

On  looking  at  the  notes  of  introduction  which  Pleydell  had 
thrust  into  his  hand,  Mannering  was  gratified  with  seeing 
that  they  were  addressed  to  some  of  the  first  literary  char- 
acters of  Scotland — "To  David  Hume,  Esq.'  'To  John 
Home,  Esq.'  "To  Dr.  Ferguson.'  'To  Dr.  Black.'  'To  Lord 
Kaimes.'  'To  Mr.  Hutton.'  'To  John  Clerk,  Esq.  of  Eldin.' 
'To  Adam  Smith,  Esq.'     'To  Dr.  Robertson.' 

'Upon  my  word  my  legal  friend  has  a  good  selection  of 
acquaintances — these  are  names  pretty  widely  blown  indeed. 
An  East-Indian  must  rub  up  his  faculties  a  little,  and  put  his 
mind  in  order,  before  he  enters  this  sort  of  society.' 

Mannering  gladly  availed  himself  of  these  introductions; 
and  we  regret  deeply  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  give  the  reader 
an  account  of  the  pleasure  and  information  which  he  re- 
ceived, in  admission  to  a  circle  never  closed  against  stran- 
gers of  sense  and  information,  and  which  has  perhaps  at  no 
period  been  equalled,  considering  the  depth  and  variety  of 
talent  which  it  embraced  and  concentrated. 

Upon  the  Thursday  appointed,  Mr.  Pleydell  made  his 
appearance  at  the  inn  where  Colonel  INIannering  lodged.  The 
venison  proved  in  high  order,  the  claret  excellent;  and  the 


319  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

learned  counsel,  a  professed  amateur  in  the  affairs  of  the 
table,  did  distinguished  honour  to  both.  I  am  uncertain, 
however,  if  even  the  good  cheer  gave  him  more  satisfaction 
than  the  presence  of  Dominie  Sampson,  from  whom,  in  his 
own  juridical  style  of  wit,  he  contrived  to  extract  great 
amusement,  both  for  himself  and  one  or  two  friends  whom 
the  Colonel  regaled  on  the  same  occasion.  The  grave  and 
laconic  simplicity  of  Sampson's  answers  to  the  insidious 
questions  of  the  barrister,  placed  the  bonhomie  of  his  char- 
acter in  a  more  luminous  point  of  view  than  Mannering 
had  yet  seen  it.  Upon  the  same  occasion  he  drew  forth  a 
strange  quantity  of  miscellaneous  and  abstruse,  though,  gen- 
erally speaking,  useless  learning.  The  lawyer  afterwards 
compared  his  mind  to  the  magazine  of  a  pawnbroker,  stowed 
with  goods  of  every  description,  but  so  cumbrously  piled  to- 
gether, and  in  such  total  disorganization,  that  the  owner 
can  never  lay  his  hands  upon  any  one  article  at  the  moment 
he  has  occasion  for  it. 

As  for  the  advocate  himself,  he  afforded  at  least  as  much 
exercise  to  Sampson  as  he  extracted  amusement  from  him. 
When  the  man  of  law  began  to  get  into  his  altitudes,  and 
his  wit,  naturally  shrewd  and  dry,  became  more  lively  and 
poignant,  the  Dominie  looked  upon  him  with  that  sort  of 
surprise  with  which  we  can  conceive  a  tame  bear  might  re- 
gard his  future  associate,  the  monkey,  on  their  being  first 
introduced  to  each  other.  It  was  Mr.  Pleydell's  delight  to 
state  in  grave  and  serious  argument  some  position  which  he 
knew  the  Dominie  would  be  inclined  to  dispute.  He  then 
beheld  with  exquisite  pleasure  the  internal  labour  with  which 
the  honest  man  arranged  his  ideas  for  reply,  and  tasked  his 
inert  and  sluggish  powers  to  bring  up  all  the  heavy  artillery 
of  his  learning  for  demolishing  the  schismatic  or  heretical 
opinion  which  had  been  stated — when,  behold !  before  the 
ordnance  could  be  discharged,  the  foe  had  quitted  the  post, 
and  appeared  in  a  new  position  of  annoyance  on  the  Dom- 
inie's flank  or  rear.  Often  did  he  exclaim  'Prodigious!' 
when,  marching  up  to  the  enemy  in  full  confidence  of  victory, 
he  found  the  field  evacuated;  and  it  may  be  supposed  that  it 
cost  him  no  little  labour  to  attempt  a  new  formation.  He 
was  like  a  native  Indian  army,'  the  Colonel  said,  'formi- 


GUY    MANNERIXG  313 

dable  by  numerical  strength  and  size  of  ordnance,  but  liable 
to  be  thrown  into  irreparable  confusion  by  a  movement  to 
take  them  in  flank.' — On  the  whole,  however,  the  Dominie, 
though  somewhat  fatigued  with  these  mental  exertions, 
made  at  unusual  speed  and  upon  the  pressure  of  the  mo- 
ment, reckoned  this  one  of  the  white  days  of  his  life,  and 
always  mentioned  Mr.  Pleydell  as  a  very  erudite  and  fa-ce- 
ti-ous  person. 

By  degrees  the  rest  of  the  party  dropped  off,  and  left  these 
three  gentlemen  together.  Their  conversation  turned  to  Mrs. 
Bertram's  settlements. — 'Now  what  could  drive  it  into  the 
noddle  of  that  old  harridan,'  said  Pleydell,  'to  disinherit  poor 
Lucy  Bertram,  under  pretence  of  settling  her  property  on  a 
boy  who  has  been  so  long  dead  and  gone? — I  ask  your  par- 
don, Mr.  Sampson — I  forgot  what  an  affecting  case  this  was 
for  you ; — I  remember  taking  your  examination  upon  it — 
and  I  never  had  so  much  trouble  to  make  any  one  speak 
three  words  consecutively. — You  may  talk  of  your  Pytha- 
goreans, or  your  silent  Brahmins,  Colonel, — go  to,  I  tell  you 
this  learned  gentleman  beats  them  all  in  taciturnity — but  the 
words  of  the  wise  are  precious,  and  not  to  be  thrown  away 
lightly.' 

'Of  a  surety,'  said  the  Dominie,  taking. his  blue-chequered 
handkerchief  from  his  eyes,  'that  was  a  bitter  day  with  me 
indeed;  aye,  and  a  day  of  grief  hard  to  be  borne — but  He 
giveth  strength  who  layeth  on  the  load.' 

Colonel  Mannering  took  this  opportunity  to  request  Mr. 
Pleydell  to  inform  him  of  the  particulars  attending  the  loss 
of  the  boy;  and  the  counsellor,  who  was  fond  of  talking  upon 
subjects  of  criminal  jurisprudence,  especially  when  con- 
nected with  his  own  experience,  went  through  the  circum- 
stances at  full  length.  'And  what  is  your  opinion  upon  the 
result  of  the  whole?' 

'Oh,  that  Kennedy  was  murdered :  it's  an  old  case  which 
has  occurred  on  that  coast  before  now — the  case  of  Smug- 
gler versus  Exciseman.' 

'What,  then,  is  your  conjecture  concerning  the  fate  of  the 
child?' 

'Oh,  murdered  too,  doubtless,'  answered  Pleydell.  'He  was 
old  enough  to  tell  what  he  had  seen,   and  these  ruthless 


314  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

scoundrels  would  not  scruple  committing  a  second  Bethlehem 
massacre,  if  they  thought  their  interest  required  it.' 

The  Dominie  groaned  deeply,  and  ejaculated,  'Enor- 
mous !' 

'Yet  there  was  mention  of  gipsies  in  the  business  too, 
counsellor,'  said  Mannering,  'and  from  what  that  vulgar- 
looking  fellow  said  after  the  funeral ' 

"Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram's  idea  that  the  child  was  alive 
was  founded  upon  the  report  of  a  gipsy,'  said  Pleydell,  catch- 
ing at  the  half-spoken  hint — 'I  envy  you  the  concatenation, 
Colonel — it  is  a  shame  to  me  not  to  have  drawn  the  same 
conclusion.  We'll  follow  this  business  up  instantly — Here, 
hark  ye,  waiter, — go  down  to  Luckie  Wood's  in  the  Cowgate ; 
yc'U  find  my  clerk  Driver;  he'll  set  down  to  High-Jinks  by 
this  time  ( for  we  and  our  retainers,  Colonel,  are  exceedingly 
regular  in  our  irregularities)  ;  tell  him  to  come  here  in- 
stantly, and  I  will  pay  his  forfeits.' 

'He  won't  appear  in  character,  will  he?'  said  Mannering. 
'Ah !  no  more  of  that,  Hal,  an  thou  lovest  me,'  said  Pley- 
dell. 'But  we  must  have  some  news  from  the  land  of  Egypt, 
if  possible.  Oh,  if  I  had  but  hold  of  the  slightest  thread  of 
this  complicated  skein,  you  should  see  how  I  would  unravel 
it !  I  would  work  the  truth  out  of  your  Bohemian,  as 
the  French  call  them,  better  than  a  Monitoirc,  or  a 
Plaintc  dc  Tonrncllc:  I  know  how  to  manage  a  refractory 
witness.' 

While  Mr.  Pleydell  was  thus  vaunting  his  knowledge  of 
his  profession,  the  waiter  re-entered  with  Mr.  Driver,  his 
mouth  still  greasy  with  mutton  pies,  and  the  froth  of  the 
last  draught  of  twopenny  yet  unsubsided  on  his  upper  lip, 
with  such  speed  had  he  obeyed  the  commands  of  his  prin- 
cipal. 'Driver,  you  must  go  instantly  and  find  out  the  woman 
who  was  old  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram's  maid.  Inquire  for  her 
everywhere;  but  if  you  find  it  necessary  to  have  recourse  to 
Protocol,  Quid  the  tobacconist,  or  any  other  of  these  folks, 
you  will  take  care  not  to  appear  yourself,  but  send  some 
woman  of  your  acquaintance — I  dare  say  you  know  enough 
that  may  be  so  condescending  as  to  oblige  you. — When  you 
have  found  her  out,  engage  her  to  come  to  my  chambers 
to-morrow  at  eight  o'clock  precisely.' 


GUY    MANXERIXG  315 

'What  shall  I  say  to  make  her  forthcoming?'  asked  the 
aide-de-camp. 

'Anything  you  choose,'  replied  the  lawyer.  'Is  it  my  busi- 
ness to  make  lies  for  you,  do  you  think?  But  let  her  be 
in  pracsentia  by  eight  o'clock,  as  I  have  said  before.'  The 
clerk  grinned,  made  his  reverence,  and  exit. 

'That's  a  useful  fellow,'  said  the  counsellor; — T  don't  be- 
lieve his  match  ever  carried  a  process.  He'll  write  to  my 
dictating  three  nights  in  the  week  without  sleep,  or  what's 
the  same  thing,  he  writes  as  well  and  correctly  when  he's 
asleep  as  when  he's  awake.  Then  he's  such  a  steady  fellow — 
some  of  them  are  always  changing  their  alehouses,  so  that 
they  have  twenty  cadies  sweating  after  them  like  the  bare- 
headed captains  traversing  the  taverns  of  East-Cheap  in 
search  of  Sir  John  Falstaff.  But  this  is  a  complete  fixture ; — 
he  has  his  winter  seat  by  the  fire,  and  his  summer  seat  by  the 
window,  in  Luckie  Wood's,  betwixt  which  seats  are  his  only 
migrations — there  he  's  to  be  found  at  all  times  when  he  is 
off  duty.  It  is  my  opinion  he  never  puts  off  his  clothes  or 
goes  to  sleep; — sheer  ale  supports  him  under  everything;  it 
is  meat,  drink,  and  clothing,  bed,  board,  and  washing.' 

'And  is  he  always  fit  for  duty  upon  a  sudden  turn-out? 
I  should  distrust  it,  considering  his  quarters.' 

'Oh,  drink  never  disturbs  him.  Colonel;  he  can  write  for 
hours  after  he  cannot  speak.  I  remember  being  called  sud- 
denly to  draw  an  appeal  case.  I  had  been  dining,  and  it  was 
Saturday  night,  and  I  had  ill  will  to  begin  to  it ;  however, 
they  got  me  down  to  Clerihugh's,  and  there  we  sat  birling  till 
I  had  a  fair  tappit  hen"  under  my  belt,  and  then  they  per- 
suaded me  to  draw  the  paper.  Then  we  had  to  seek  Driver, 
and  it  was  all  that  two  men  could  do  to  bear  him  in,  for, 
when  found,  he  was,  as  it  happened,  both  motionless  and 
speechless.  But  no  sooner  was  his  pen  put  between  his 
fingers,  his  paper  stretched  before  him,  and  he  heard  my 
voice,  than  he  began  to  write  like  a  scrivener — and,  except- 
ing that  we  were  obliged  to  have  somebod}'  to  dip  his  pen 
in  the  ink,  for  he  could  not  see  the  standish,  I  never  saw  a 
thing   scrolled   more   handsomely.' 

'But  how  did  your  joint  production  look  the  next  morn- 
ing?' said  the  Colonel. 


316  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Wheugh !  capital — not  three  words  required  to  be  al- 
tered ;  n  it  was  sent  off  by  that  day's  post.  But  you'll  come 
and  breakfast  with  me  to-morrow,  and  hear  this  woman's 
examination  ?' 

'Why,  your  hour  is  rather  early.' 

'Can't  make  it  later.  If  I  were  not  on  the  boards  of  the 
Outer-house  precisely  as  the  nine-hours  bell  rings,  there 
would  be  a  report  that  I  had  got  an  apoplexy,  and  I  should 
feel  the  effects  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the  session.' 

"Well,  I  will  make  an  exertion  to  wait  upon  you.' 

Here  the  company  broke  up  for  the  evening. 

In  the  morning,  Colonel  Mannering  appeared  at  the 
counsellor's  chambers,  although  cursing  the  raw  air  of  a 
Scottish  morning  in  December.  Mr.  Pleydell  had  got  Mrs. 
Rebecca  installed  on  one  side  of  his  fire,  accommodated  her 
with  a  cup  of  chocolate,  and  was  already  deeply  engaged  in 
conversation  with  her.  'Oh  no,  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Rebecca, 
there  is  no  intention  to  challenge  your  mistress's  will ;  and  I 
give  you  my  word  of  honour  that  your  legacy  is  quite  safe. 
You  have  deserved  it  by  your  conduct  to  your  mistress,  and 
I  wish  it  had  been  twice  as  much.' 

'Why,  to  be  sure,  sir,  it  's  no  right  to  mention  what  is  said 
before  ane — ye  heard  how  that  dirty  body  Quid  cast  up  to 
me  the  bits  o'  compliments  he  gied  me,  and  tell'd  ower  again 
ony  loose  cracks  I  might  hae  had  wi'  him; — now  if  ane  was 
talking  loosely  to  your  honour,  there's  nae  saying  what  might 
come  o't.' 

'I  assure  you,  my  good  Rebecca,  my  character  and  your 
own  age  and  appearance  are  your  security,  if  you  should  talk 
as  loosely  as  an  amatory  poet.' 

'Aweel,  if  your  honour  thinks  I  am  safe — the  story  is  just 
this. — You  see,  about  a  year  ago,  or  no  just  sae  long,  my 
leddy  was  advised  to  go  to  Gilsland  for  a  while,  for  her  spir- 
its were  distressing  her  sair.  Ellangowan's  troubles  began  to 
be  spoken  o'  publicly,  and  sair  vexed  she  was;  for  she  was 
proud  o'  her  family.  For  Ellangowan  himsell  and  her,  they 
sometimes  'greed,  and  sometimes  no;  but  at  last  they  didn't 
'gree  at  a'  for  twa  or  three  year — for  he  was  ay  wanting  to 
borrow  siller,  and  that  was  what  she  couldna  bide  at  no  hand, 
and  she  was  ay  wanting  it  paid  back  again,  and  that  the 


GUY    MANNERTNG  317 

Laird  he  liked  as  little.  So,  at  last,  they  were  clean  aff  the- 
gither.  And  then  some  of  the  company  at  Gilsland  tells  her 
that  the  estate  was  to  be  sell'd ;  and  ye  wad  hae  thought  she 
had  taen  an  ill  will  at  Miss  Lucy  Bertram  frae  that  moment, 
for  mony  a  time  she  cried  to  me,  "O  Becky,  O  Becky,  if  that 
useless  peenging  thing  o'  a  lassie  there  at  Ellangowan,  that 
canna  keep  her  ne'er-do-weel  father  within  bounds — if  she 
had  been  but  a  lad-bairn,  they  couldna  hae  sell'd  the  auld  in- 
heritance for  that  fool-body's  debts !" — and  she  would  rin  on 
that  way  till  I  was  just  wearied  and  sick  to  hear  her  ban  the 
puir  lassie,  as  if  she  wadna  hae  been  a  lad-bairn,  and  keepit 
the  land,  if  it  had  been  in  her  will  to  change  her  sect.  And 
ae  day  at  the  spaw-well,  below  the  craig  at  Gilsland,  she  was 
seeing  a  very  bonny  family  o'  bairns — they  belanged  to  ane 
Mac-Crosky — and  she  broke  out — "Is  not  it  an  oddlike  thing 
that  ilka  waf  carle'  in  the  country  has  a  son  and  heir,  and 
that  the  house  of  Ellangowan  is  without  male  succession?" 
There  was  a  gipsy  wife  stood  ahint  and  heard  her — a  muckle 
sture  fearsome-looking  wife  she  was  as  ever  I  set  een  on. 
"Wha  is  it,"  says  she,  "that  dare  say  the  house  of  Ellan- 
gowan will  perish  without  male  succession?"  My  mistress 
just  turned  on  her;  she  was  a  high-spirited  woman,  and  ay 
ready  wi'  an  answer  to  a'  body.  "It's  me  that  says  it."  says 
she,  "that  may  say  it  with  a  sad  heart."  Wi'  that  the  gipsy 
wife  gripped  till  her  hand:  "I  ken  you  weel  eneugh,"  says 
she,  "though  ye  kenna  me — But  as  sure  as  that  sun's  in 
heaven,  and  as  sure  as  that  water's  rinning  to  the  sea.  and 
as  sure  as  there's  an  ee  that  sees,  and  an  ear  that  hears  us 
baith, — Harry  Bertram,  that  was  thought  to  perish  at  War- 
roch  Point,  never  did  die  there.  He  was  to  have  a  weary 
weird  o't  till  his  ane-and-twentieth  year,  that  was  ay  said  o' 
him — but  if  ye  live  and  I  live,  ye'll  hear  mair  o'  him  this 
winter  before  the  snaw  lies  twa  days  on  the  Dun  of  Single- 
side.  I  want  nane  o'  your  siller,"  she  said,  "to  make  ye  think 
I  am  blearing  your  ee.  Fare  ye  weel  till  after  Martinmas." 
And  there  she  left  us  standing.' 

'Was  she  a  very  tall  woman?'  interrupted  Mannering. 

'Had  she  black  hair,  black  eyes,  and  a  cut  above  the  brow?' 
added  the  lawyer. 

*  Every    insignificant    churl. 


L. 


318  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'She  was  the  tallest  woman  I  ever  saw,  and  her  hair  was 
as  black  as  midnight,  unless  where  it  was  grey,  and  she  had 
a  scar  abune  the  brow,  that  ye  might  hae  laid  the  lith  of 
your  finger  in.  Naebody  that's  seen  her  will  ever  forget  her ; 
and  I  am  morally  sure  that  it  was  on  the  ground  of  what 
that  gipsy-woman  said  that  my  mistress  made  her  will,  hav- 
ing taen  a  dislike  at  the  young  leddy  o'  Ellangowan ;  and  she 
liked  her  far  waur  after  she  was  obliged  to  send  her  £20, — 
for  she  said  Miss  Bertram,  no  content  wi'  letting  the  Ellan- 
gowan property  pass  into  strange  hands,  owing  to  her  being 
a  lass  and  no  a  lad.  was  coming,  by  her  poverty,  to  be  a 
burden  and  a  disgrace  to  Singleside  too. — But  I  hope  my 
mistress's  is  a  good  will  for  a'  that,  for  it  would  be  hard  on 
me  to  lose  the  wee  bit  legacy — I  served  for  little  fee  and, 
bountith,  weel  I  wot.' 

The  counsellor  relieved  her  fears  on  this  head,  then  in- 
quired after  Jenny  Gibson,  and  understood  she  had  accepted 
Mr,  Dinmont's  offer ;  and  1  have  done  sae  mysell  too,  since 
he  was  sae  discreet  as  to  ask  me,'  said  Mrs.  Rebecca;  'they 
are  very  decent  folk  the  Dinmonts,  though  my  lady  didna 
dow  to  hear  muckle  about  the  friends  on  that  side  the  house. 
But  she  liked  the  Charlies-hope  hams,  and  the  cheeses,  and 
the  muir-fowl,  that  they  were  ay  sending,  and  the  lamb's- 
wool  hose  and  mittens — she  liked  them  weel  eneuch.' 

Mr.  Pleydell  now  dismissed  Mrs.  Rebecca.  When  she  was 
gone,  'I  think  I  know  the  gipsy-woman,'  said  the  lawyer. 

'I  was  just  going  to  say  the  same,  replied  Mannering, 

'And  her  name,'  said  Pleydell 

'Is  Meg  Merrilies,'  answered  the  Colonel. 

'Are  you  advised  of  that?'  said  the  counsellor,  looking  at 
his  military  friend  with  a  comic  expression  of  surprise. 

Mannering  answered,  'that  he  had  known  such  a  woman 
when  he  was  at  Ellangowan  upwards  of  twenty  years  before ; 
and  then  made  his  learned  friend  acquainted  with  all  the  re- 
markable particulars  of  his  first  visit  there. 

Mr.  Pleydell  listened  with  great  attention,  and  then  replied, 
'I  congratulated  myself  upon  having  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  profound  theologian  in  your  chaplain;  but  I  really  did 
not  expect  to  find  a  pupil  of  Albumazar  or  Messahala  in  his 
patron.    I  have  a  notion,  however,  this  gipsy  could  tell  us  some 


GUY    MANNERIXG  319 

more  of  the  matter  than  she  derives  from  astrology  or  second- 
sight — I  had  her  through  hands  once,  and  could  then  make 
little  of  her;  but  I  must  write  to  Mac-Morlan  to  stir  heaven 

and  earth  to  find  her  out.     I  will  gladly  come  to  shire 

myself  to  assist  at  her  examination.  I  am  still  in  the  com- 
mission of  the  peace  there,  though  I  have  ceased  to  be 
sheriff.  I  never  had  anything  more  at  heart  in  my  life  than 
tracing  that  murder,  and  the  fate  of  the  child.  I  must  write 
to  the  sheriff  of  Roxburgshire  too,  and  to  an  active  justice 
of  peace  in  Cumberland. 

M  hope  when  you  come  to  the  country  you  will  make 
Woodbourne  your  head  quarters?' 

'Certainly;  I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to  forbid  me — 
But  we  must  go  to  breakfast  now,  or  I  shall  be  too  late.' 

On  the  following  day  the  new  friends  parted,  and  the 
Colonel  rejoined  his  family  without  any  adventure  worthy 
of  being  detailed  in  these  chapters. 


CHAPTER    XL 

Can  no  rest  find  me,  no  private  place  secure  me, 
But  still  my  miseries   like  bloodhounds  haunt  me? 
Unfortunate  young  man,  which  way  now  guides  thee, 
Guides  thee  from  death  ?     The  country's  laid  around  for  thee. 

Women  Pleased, 

OUR  narrative  now  recalls  us  for  a  moment  to  the 
period  when  young  Hazlewood  received  his  wound. 
That  accident  had  no  sooner  happened,  than  the  con- 
sequences to  Miss  Mannering  and  to  himself  rushed  upon 
Brown's  mind.  From  the  manner  in  which  the  muzzle  of  the 
piece  was  pointed  when  it  went  ofif,  he  had  no  great  fear  that 
the  consequences  would  be  fatal.  But  an  arrest  in  a  strange 
country,  and  while  he  was  unprovided  with  any  means  of  es- 
tablishing his  rank  and  character,  was  at  least  to  be  avoided. 
He  therefore  resolved  to  escape  for  the  present  to  the 
neighboring  coast  of  England,  and  to  remain  concealed  there, 
if  possible,  until  he  should  receive  letters  from  his  regimental 
friends,  and  remittances  from  his  agent;  and  then  to  resume 
his  own  character,  and  offer  to  young  Hazlewood  and  his 
friends  any  explanation  or  satisfaction  they  might  desire. 
With  this  purpose  he  walked  stoutly  forward,  after  leaving 
the  spot  where  the  accident  had  happened,  and  reached  with- 
out adventure  the  village  which  we  have  called  Portanferry 
(but  which  the  reader  will  in  vain  seek  for  under  that  name 
in  the  county  map).  A  large  open  boat  was  just  about  to 
leave  the  quay,  bound  for  the  little  seaport  of  Allonby,  in 
Cumberland.  In  this  vessel  Brown  embarked,  and  resolved 
to  make  that  place  his  temporary  abode,  until  he  should  re- 
ceive letters  and  money  from  England. 

In  the  course  of  their  short  voyage  he  entered  into  some 
conversation  with  the  steersman,  who  was  also  owner  of  the 
boat, — a  jolly  old  man,  who  had  occasionally  been  engaged 
in  the  smuggling  trade,  like  most  fishers  on  the  coast.  After 
talking  about  objects  of  less  interest,  Brown  endeavoured  to 

320 


I 


GUY    MAXNERING  321 

turn  the  discourse  towards  the  Mannering  family.  The 
sailor  had  heard  of  the  attack  upon  the  house  at  Woodbourne, 
but  disa{)proved  of  the  smugglers'  proceedings. 

'Hands  off  is  fair  play.  Zounds  !  they'll  bring  the  whole 
country  down  upon  them.  Na,  na !  when  I  was  in  that  way, 
I  played  at  giff-gaff  with  the  officers :  here  a  cargo  taen — 
vera  weel,  that  was  their  luck ; — there  another  carried  clean 
through,  that  was  mine.  Na,  na !  hawks  shouldna  pike  out 
hawks'  een.' 

'And  this  Colonel  Mannering  ?'  said  Brown. 

'Troth,  he  's  nae  wise  man  neither,  to  interfere.  No  that 
I  blame  him  for  saving  the  gangers'  lives — that  was  very 
right;  but  it  wasna  like  a  gentleman  to  be  fighting  about  the 
poor  folk's  pocks  o'  tea  and  brandy  kegs ;  however,  he  's  a 
grand  man  and  an  officer  man,  and  they  do  what  they  like  wi' 
the  like  o'  us.' 

'And  his  daughter,'  said  Brown,  with  a  throbbing  heart,  'is 
going  to  be  married  into  a  great  family  too,  as  I  have  heard?' 

'What,  into  the  Hazlewood's?'  said  the  pilot.  'Na,  na, 
that's  but  idle  clashes — every  Sabbath  day,  as  regularly  as  it 
came  round,  did  the  young  man  ride"  hame  wi'  the  daughter 
of  the  late  Ellangowan; — and  my  daughter  Peggy's  in  the 
service  up  at  Woodbourne,  and  she  says  she's  sure  young 
Hazlewood  thinks  nae  mair  of  Miss  Mannering  than  you  do.' 

Bitterly  censuring  his  own  precipitate  adoption  of  a  con- 
trary belief,  Brown  yet  heard  with  delight  that  the  suspicions 
of  Julia's  fidelity,  upon  which  he  had  so  rashly  acted,  were 
probably  void  of  foundation.  How  must  he  in  the  meantime 
be  suffering  in  her  opinion  ?  or  what  could  she  suppose  of 
conduct,  which  must  have  made  him  appear  to  her  regardless 
alike  of  her  peace  of  mind,  and  of  the  interests  of  their 
affection?  The  old  man's  connexion  with  the  family  at 
Woodbourne  seemed  to  offer  a  safe  mode  of  communication, 
of  which  he  determined  to  avail  himself. 

'Your  daughter  is  a  maid-servant  at  Woodbourne? — T 
knew  Miss  Mannering  in  India,  and  though  I  am  at  present 
in  an  inferior  rank  of  life,  I  have  great  reason  to  hope  she 
would  interest  herself  in  my  favour.  I  had  a  quarrel  unfor- 
tunately with  her  father,  who  was  my  commanding-officer, 
and  I  am  sure  the  young  lady  would  endeavor  to  reconcile 


323  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

him  to  me.  Perhaps  your  daughter  could  deliver  a  letter  to 
her  upon  the  subject,  without  making  mischief  between  her 
father  and  her?' 

The  old  man,  a  friend  to  smuggling  of  every  kind,  readily 
answered  for  the  letter's  being  faithfully  and  secretly  deliv- 
ered ;  and,  accordingly,  as  soon  as  they  arrived  at  Allonby, 
Brown  wrote  to  Miss  Manner ing,  stating  the  utmost  contri- 
tion for  what  had  happened  through  his  rashness,  and  con- 
juring her  to  let  him  have  an  opportunity  of  pleading  his  own 
cause,  and  obtaining  forgiveness  for  his  indiscretion.  He  did 
not  judge  it  safe  to  go  into  any  detail  concerning  the  cir- 
cumstances by  which  he  had  been  misled,  and  upon  the 
whole  endeavoured  to  express  himself  Avith  such  ambiguity, 
that  if  the  letter  should  fall  into  wrong  hands,  it  would  be 
difficult  either  to  understand  its  real  purport,  or  to  trace  the 
writer.  This  letter  the  old  man  undertook  faithfully  to  deliver 
to  his  daughter  at  Woodbourne;  and,  as  his  trade  would 
speedily  again  bring  him  or  his  boat  to  Allonby,  he  promised 
further  to  take  charge  of  any  answer  with  which  the  young 
lady  might  entrust  him. 

And  now  our  persecuted  traveller  landed  at  Allonby,  and 
sought  for  such  accommodations  as  might  at  once  suit  his 
temporary  poverty,  and  his  desire  of  remaining  as  much  un- 
observed as  possible.  With  this  view  he  assumed  the  name 
and  profession  of  his  friend  Dudley,  having  command 
enough  of  the  pencil  to  verify  his  pretended  character  to  his 
host  of  Allonby.  His  baggage  he  pretended  to  expect  from 
Wigton;  and  keeping  himself  as  much  within  doors  as  pos- 
sible, awaited  the  return  of  the  letters  which  he  had  sent  to 
his  agent,  to  Delaserre,  and  to  his  Lieutenant-Colonel.  From 
the  first  he  requested  a  supply  of  money;  he  conjured  Dela- 
serre, if  possible,  to  join  him  in  Scotland;  and  from  the  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel he  required  such  testimony  of  his  rank  and 
conduct  in  the  regiment,  as  should  place  his  character  as  a 
gentleman  and  officer  beyond  the  power  of  question.  The 
inconvenience  of  being  run  short  in  his  finances  struck  him 
so  strongly,  that  he  wrote  to  Dinmont  on  that  subject,  re- 
questing a  small  temporary  loan,  having  no  doubt  that,  be- 
ing within  sixty  or  seventy  miles  of  his  residence,  he  should 
receive  a  speedy  as  well  as  favourable  answer  to  his  request 


GUY    MANNERIN'G  323 

of  pecuniary  accommodation,  which  was  owing,  as  he  stated, 
to  his  having  been  robbed  after  their  parting.  And  then, 
with  impatience  enough,  though  without  any  serious  appre- 
hension, he  waited  the  answers  of  these  various  letters. 

It  must  be  observed,  in  excuse  of  his  correspondents,  that 
the  post  was  then  much  more  tardy  than  since  Mr.  Palmer's 
ingenious  invention  has  taken  place;  and  with  respect  to 
honest  Dinmont  in  particular,  as  he  rarely  received  above  one 
letter  a  quarter  (unless  during  the  time  of  his  being  engaged 
in  a  lawsuit,  when  he  regularly  sent  to  the  post-town),  his 
correspondence  usually  remained  for  a  month  or  two  stick- 
ing in  the  postmaster's  window,  among  pamphlets,  ginger- 
bread, rolls,  or  ballads,  according  to  the  trade  which  the  said 
postmaster  exercised.  Besides,  there  was  then  a  custom,  not 
yet  wholly  obsolete,  of  causing  a  letter,  from  one  town  to  an- 
other, perhaps  within  the  distance  of  thirty  miles,  perform  a 
circuit  of  two  hundred  miles  before  delivery;  which  had  the 
combined  advantage  of  airing  the  epistle  thoroughly,  of  add- 
ing some  pence  to  the  revenue  of  the  post-office,  and  of  exer- 
cising the  patience  of  the  correspondents.  Owing  to  these 
circumstances,  Brown  remained  several  days  in  Allonby  with- 
out any  answers  whatever;  and  his  stock  of  money,  though 
husbanded  with  the  utmost  economy,  began  to  wear  very 
low,  when  he  received,  by  the  hands  of  a  young  fisherman, 
the  following  letter: — 

'You  have  acted  with  the  most  cruel  indiscretion  ;  you  have  shown 
how  little  I  can  trust  to  your  declarations  that  my  peace  and  happi- 
ness are  dear  to  you ;  and  your  rashness  has  nearly  occasioned  the 
death  of  a  young  man  of  the  highest  worth  and  honour.  Must  I 
say  more  ? — must  I  add,  that  I  have  been  myself  very  ill  in  conse- 
quence of  yovir  violence  and  its  effects?  And,  alas!  need  I  say 
still  further,  that  I  have  thought  anxiously  upon  them  as  they  are 
likely  to  affect  yovi,  although  you  have  given  me  such  slight  cause 
to  do  so?  The  C.  is  gone  from  home  for  several  days;  Mr.  H. 
is  almost  quite  recovered;  and  I  have  reason  to  think  that  the  blame 
is  laid  in  a  quarter  different  from  that  where  it  is  deserved.  Yet 
do  not  think  of  venturing  here.  Our  fate  has  been  crossed  by 
accidents  of  a  nature  too  violent  and  terrible  to  permit  me  to  think 
of  renewing  a  correspondence  which  has  so  often  threatened  the 
most  dreadful  catastrophe.  Farewell,  therefore,  and  believe  that  no 
one  can  wish  your  happiness  more  sincerely  than 

'J.  m: 


324  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

This  letter  contained  that  species  of  advice,  which  is  fre- 
quently given  for  the  precise  purpose  that  it  may  lead  to  a 
directly  opposite  conduct  from  that  which  it  recommends. 
At  least  so  thought  Brown,  who  immediately  asked  the  young 
fisherman  if  he  came  from  Portan ferry. 

'Aye,'  said  the  lad;  'I  am  auld  Willie  Johnstone's  son,  and 
I  got  that  letter  frae  my  sister  Peggy,  that's  laundry-maid  at 
Woodbourne.' 

'My  good  friend,  when  do  you  sail  ?' 

'With  the  tide  this  evening.' 

'I'll  return  with  you ; — but  as  I  do  not  desire  to  go  to 
Portanferry,  I  wish  you  could  put  me  on  shore  somewhere 
on  the  coast.' 

'We  can  easily  do  that,'  said  the  lad. 

Although  the  price  of  provisions,  &c.  was  then  very  mod- 
erate, the  discharging  his  lodgings,  and  the  expense  of  his 
living,  together  with  that  of  a  change  of  dress,  which  safety, 
as  well  as  a  proper  regard  to  his  external  appearance,  ren- 
dered necessary,  brought  Brown's  purse  to  a  very  low  ebb. 
He  left  directions  at  the  post-office  that  his  letters  should 
be  forwarded  to  Kippletringan,  whither  he  resolved  to  pro- 
ceed, and  reclaim  the  treasure  which  he  had  deposited  in 
the  hands  of  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish.  He  also  felt  it  would  be 
his  duty  to  assume  his  proper  character  as  soon  as  he  should 
receive  the  necessary  evidence  for  supporting  it,  and,  as  an 
officer  in  the  king's  service,  give  and  receive  every  explana- 
tion which  might  be  necessary  with  young  Hazlewood.  'If 
he  is  not  very  wrong-headed  indeed,'  he  thought,  'he  must 
allow  the  manner  in  which  I  acted  to  have  been  the  neces- 
sary consequence  of  his  own  overbearing  conduct.' 

And  now  we  must  suppose  him  once  more  embarked  on 
the  Solway  frith.  The  wind  was  adverse,  attended  by 
some  rain,  and  they  struggled  against  it  without  much 
assistance  from  the  tide.  The  boat  was  heavily  laden  with 
goods  (part  of  which  were  probably  contraband)  and 
laboured  deep  in  the  sea.  Brown,  who  had  been  bred 
a  sailor,  and  was  indeed  skilled  in  most  athletic  exercises, 
gave  his  powerful  and  effectual  assistance  in  rowing,  or 
occasionally  in  steering  the  boat,  and  his  advice  in  the 
management,  which  became  the  more  delicate  as  the  wind 


GUY    MANNERING  325 

increased,  and,  being  opposed  to  the  very  rapid  tides  of 
that  coast,  made  the  voyage  perilous.  At  length,  after 
spending  the  whole  night  upon  the  frith,  they  were  at 
morning  within  sight  of  a  beautiful  bay  upon  the  Scottish 
coast.  The  weather  was  now  more  mild.  The  snow, 
which  had  been  for  some  time  waning,  had  given  way 
entirely  under  the  fresh  gale  of  the  preceding  night.  The 
more  distant  hills,  indeed,  retained  their  snowy  mantle, 
but  all  the  open  country  was  cleared,  unless  where  a  few 
white  patches  indicated  that  it  had  been  drifted  to  an 
uncommon  depth.  Even  under  its  wintry  appearance,  the 
shore  was  highly  interesting.  The  line  of  sea-coast,  with 
all  its  varied  curves,  indentures,  and  embayments,  swept 
away  from  the  sight  on  either  hand,  in  that  varied,  in- 
tricate, yet  graceful  and  easy  line,  which  the  eye  loves  so 
well  to  pursue.  And  it  was  no  less  relieved  and  varied 
in  elevation  than  in  outline,  by  the  different  forms  of  the 
shore ;  the  beach  in  some  places  being  edged  by  steep 
rocks,  and  in  others  rising  smoothly  from  the  sands  in 
easy  and  swelling  slopes. — Buildings  of  different  kinds 
caught  and  reflected  the  wintry  sunbeams  of  a  December 
morning,  and  the  woods,  though  now  leafless,  gave  relief 
and  variety  to  the  landscape.  Brown  felt  that  lively  and 
awakening  interest  which  taste  and  sensibility  always 
derive  from  the  beauties  of  nature,  when  opening  suddenly 
to  the  eye  after  the  dullness  and  gloom  of  a  night  voyage. 
Perhaps — for  who  can  presume  to  analyse  that  inexplicable 
feeling  which  binds  the  person  born  in  a  mountainous  coun- 
try to  his  native  hills? — perhaps  some  early  associations, 
retaining  their  effect  long  after  the  cause  was  forgotten, 
mingled  in  the  feelings  of  pleasure  with  which  he  regarded 
the  scene  before  him. 

'And  what,*  said  Brown  to  the  boatman,  'is  the  name  of 
that  fine  cape,  that  stretches  into  the  sea,  with  its  sloping 
banks  and  hillocks  of  wood,  and  forms  the  right  side  of 
the  bay?' 

'Warroch  Point,'  answered  the  lad. 

'And  that  old  castle,  my  friend,  with  the  modern  house 
situated  just  beneath  it?  It  seems  at  this  distance  a  very 
large  building.' 


326  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

That's  the  Auld  Place,  sir;  and  that's  the  New  Place 
below  it.    We'll  land  you  there,  if  you  like.' 

'I  should  like  it  of  all  things.  I  must  visit  that  ruin 
before  I  continue  my  journey.' 

'Aye,  it's  a  queer  old  bit,'  said  the  fisherman;  'and  that 
highest  tower  is  a  gude  landmark  as  far  as  Ramsay  in  Man, 
and  the  Point  of  /\.yr ; — there  was  muckle  fighting  about 
the  place  lang  syne.' 

Brown  would  have  inquired  into  further  particulars,  but 
a  fisherman  is  seldom  an  antiquary.  His  boatman's  local 
knowledge  was  summed  up  in  the  information  already 
given,  'that  it  was  a  grand  landmark,  and  that  there  had  been 
muckle  fighting  about  the  bit  lang  syne.' 

'I  shall  learn  more  of  it,'  said  Brown  to  himself,  'when 
I  get  ashore.' 

The  boat  continued  its  course  close  under  the  point  upon 
which  the  castle  was  situated,  which  frowned  from  the 
summit  of  its  rocky  site  upon  the  still  agitated  waves  of 
the  bay  beneath.  'I  believe,'  said  the  steersman,  'ye'll 
get  ashore  here  as  dry  as  ony  gate.  There's  a  place  where 
their  berlins  and  galleys,  as  they  ca'd  them,  used  to  lie 
in  lang  syne,  but  it's  no  used  now,  because  it's  ill  carrying 
gudes  up  the  narrow  stairs,  or  ower  the  rocks.  Whiles  of  a 
moonlight  night  I  have  landed  articles  there,  though.' 

While  he  thus  spoke,  they  pulled  round  a  point  of  rock, 
and  found  a  very  small  harbour,  partly  formed  by  nature, 
partly  by  the  indefatigable  labour  of  the  ancient  inhabitants 
of  the  castle,  who,  as  the  fir.sherman  observed,  had  found 
it  essential  for  the  protection  of  their  boats  and  small 
craft,  though  it  could  not  receive  vessels  of  any  burden. 
The  two  points  of  rock  which  formed  the  access  approached 
each  other  so  nearly,  that  only  one  boat  could  enter  at  a 
time.  On  each  side  were  still  remaining  two  immense  iron 
rings,  deeply  morticed  into  the  solid  rock.  Through  these, 
according  to  tradition,  there  was  nightly  drawn  a  huge 
chain,  secured  by  an  immense  padlock,  for  the  protection  of 
the  haven,  and  the  armada  which  it  contained.  A  ledge  of 
rock  had,  by  the  assistance  of  the  chisel  and  pickaxe,  been 
formed  into  a  sort  of  quay.  The  rock  was  of  extremely 
hard  consistence,  and  the  task  so  difficult,  that,  according 


GUY    MANNERIXG  327 

to  the  fisherman,  a  labourer  who  wrought  at  the  work  might 
in  the  evening  have  carried  home  in  his  bonnet  all  the 
shivers  which  he  had  struck  from  the  mass  in  the  course 
of  the  day.  This  little  quay  communicated  with  a  rude 
staircase,  already  repeatedly  mentioned,  which  descended 
from  the  old  castle.  There  was  also  a  communication 
between  the  beach  and  the  quay,  by  scrambling  over  the 
rocks. 

'Ye  had  better  land  here,'  said  the  lad,  'for  the  surf's 
running  high  at  the  Shellicoat-stane,  and  there  will  no  be 
a  dry  thread  amang  us  or  we  get  the  cargo  out. — Na !  na !' 
(in  answer  to  an  offer  of  money)  'ye  have  wrought  for 
your  passage,  and  wrought  far  better  than  ony  o"  us.  Gude 
day  to  ye :  I  wuss  ye  week' 

So  saying,  he  pushed  ofif  in  order  to  land  his  cargo  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  bay ;  and  Brown,  with  a  small 
bundle  in  his  hand,  containing  the  trifling  stock  of  neces- 
saries which  he  had  been  obliged  to  purchase  at  Allonby, 
was  left  on  the  rocks  beneath  the  ruin. 

And  thus,  unconscious  as  the  most  absolute  stranger, 
and  in  circumstances  which,  if  not  destitute,  were  for  the 
present  highly  embarrassing;  without  the  countenance  of  a 
friend  within  the  circle  of  several  hundred  miles;  accused 
of  a  heavy  crime,  and,  what  was  as  bad  as  all  the  rest, 
being  nearly  penniless,  did  the  harassed  wanderer,  for  the 
first  time  after  the  interval  of  so  many  years,  approach  the 
remains  of  the  castle  where  his  ancestors  had  exercised 
all  but  regal  dominion. 


CHAPTER   XLI 
Yes,  ye  moss-green  walls. 


Ye  towers  defenceless,  I  revisit  ye 
Shame-stricken!     Where  are  all  your  trophies  now? 
Your   thronged   courts,   the  revelry,   the   tumult, 
That  spoke  the  grandeur  of  my  house,  the  homage 
Of  neighbouring  Barons  ? 

Mysterious  Mother. 


ENTERING  the  castle  of  EUangowan  by  a  postern  door 
way,  which  showed  symptoms  of  having  been  once 
secured  with  the  most  jealous  care,  Brown  (whom, 
since  he  has  set  foot  upon  the  property  of  his  fathers,  we 
shall  hereafter  call  by  his  father's  name  of  Bertram  (wan- 
dered from  one  ruined  apartment  to  another,  surprised 
at  the  massive  strength  of  some  parts  of  the  building,  the 
rude  and  impressive  magnificence  of  others,  and  the  great 
extent  of  the  whole.  In  two  of  these  rooms,  close  beside 
each  other,  he  saws  signs  of  recent  habitation.  In  one  small 
apartment  were  empty  bottles,  half-gnawed  bones,  and  dried 
fragments  of  bread.  In  the  vault  which  adjoined,  and  which 
was  defended  by  a  strong  door,  then  left  open,  he  observed 
a  considerable  quantity  of  straw ;  and  in  both  were  the  relics 
of  recent  fires.  How  little  was  it  possible  for  Bertram  to 
conceive,  that  such  trivial  circumstances  were  closely  con- 
nected with  incidents  affecting  his  prosperity,  his  honour, 
perhaps  his  life ! 

After  satisfying  his  curiosity  by  a  hasty  glance  through 
the  interior  of  the  castle,  Bertrain  now  advanced  through 
the  great  gateway  which  opened  to  the  land,  and  paused 
to  look  upon  the  noble  landscape  which  it  commanded. 
Having  in  vain  endeavoured  to  guess  the  position  of  Wood- 
bourne,  and  having  nearly  ascertained  that  of  Kipple- 
tringan,  he  turned  to  take  a  parting  look  at  the  stately 
ruins  which  he  had  just  traversed  He  admired  the  massive 
and  picturesque  effect  of   the   huge   round  towers,   which, 

328 


J 


GUY    MANNERIXG  329 

flanking  the  gateway,  gave  a  double  portion  of  depth  and 
majesty  to  the  high  yet  gloomy  arch  under  which  it  opened. 
The  carved  stone  escutcheon  of  the  ancient  family,  bearing 
for  their  arms  three  wolves'  heads,  was  hung  diagonally 
beneath  the  helmet  and  crest,  the  latter  being  a  wolf 
couchant  pierced  with  an  arrow.  On  either  side  stood  as 
supporters,  in  full  human  size,  or  larger,  a  salvage  man 
proper,  to  use  the  language  of  heraldry,  wreathed  and 
cinctured,  and  holding  in  his  hand  an  oak-tree  eradicated, 
that  is,  torn  up  by  the  roots. 

'And  the  powerful  barons  who  owned  this  blazonry,' 
thought  Bertram,  pursuing  the  usual  train  of  ideas  which 
flows  upon  the  mind  at  such  scenes, — 'do  their  posterity 
continue  to  possess  the  lands  which  they  had'  laboured 
to  fortify  so  strongly?  or  are  they  wanderers,  ignorant 
perhaps  even  of  the  fame  or  power  of  their  forefathers, 
while  their  hereditary  possessions  are  held  by  a  race  of 
strangers?  Why  is  it,'  he  thought,  continuing  to  follow 
out  the  succession  of  ideas  which  the  scene  prompted — 
'why  is  it  that  some  scenes  awaken  thoughts  which  belong 
as  it  were  to  dreams  of  early  and  shadowy  recollection, 
such  as  my  old  Brahmin  Moonshie  would  have  ascribed 
to  a  state  of  previous  existence?  Is  it  the  visions  of  our 
sleep  that  float  confusedly  in  our  memory,  and  are  recalled 
by  the  appearance  of  such  real  objects  as  in  any  respect 
correspond  to  the  phantoms  they  presented  to  our  imagina- 
tion? How  often  do  we  find  ourselves  in  society  which 
we  have  never  before  met,  and  yet  feel  impressed  with  a 
mysterious  and  ill-defined  consciousness,  that  neither  the 
scene,  the  speakers,  nor  the  subject,  are  entirely  new; 
nay,  feel  as  if  we  could  anticipate  that  part  of  the  con- 
versation which  has  not  yet  taken  place !  It  is  even  so 
with  me  while  I  gaze  upon  that  ruin; — nor  can  I  divest 
myself  of  the  idea,  that  these  massive  towers,  and  that 
dark  gateway,  retiring  through  its  deep-vaulted  and  ribbed 
arches,  and  dimly  lighted  by  the  courtyard  beyond,  are 
not  entirely  strange  to  me.  Can  it  be.  that  they  have  been 
familiar  to  me  in  infancy,  and  that  I  am  to  seek  in  their 
vicinity  those  friends  of  whom  my  childhood  has  still  a 
tender  though   faint   remembrance,  and  whom   I  early  ex- 


330  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

changed  for  such  severe  taskmasters?  Yet  Brown,  who 
I  think  would  not  have  deceived  me,  always  told  me  I 
was  brought  off  from  the  eastern  coast,  after  a  skirmish 
in  which  my  father  was  killed ; — and  I  do  remember  enough 
of  a  horrid  scene  of  violence  to  strengthen  his  account.' 

It  happened  that  the  spot  upon  which  young  Bertram 
chanced  to  station  himself  for  the  better  viewing  the  castle, 
was  nearly  the  same  on  which  his  father  had  died.  It  was 
marked  by  a  large  old  oak-tree,  the  only  one  on  the  esplanade, 
and  which,  having  been  used  for  executions  by  the  barons 
of  Ellangowan,  was  called  the  Justice-Tree.  It  chanced, 
and  the  coincidence  was  remarkable,  that  Glossin  was  this 
morning  engaged  with  a  person,  whom  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  consulting  in  such  matters,  concerning  some  projected 
repairs,  and  a  large  addition  to  the  house  of  Ellangowan, — 
and  that,  having  no  great  pleasure  in  remains  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  grandeur  of  the  former  inhabitants,  he 
had  resolved  to  use  the  stones  of  the  ruinous  castle  in  his 
new  edifice.  Accordingly  he  came  up  the  bank,  followed 
by  the  land-surveyor  mentioned  on  a  former  occasion,  who 
was  also  in  the  habit  of  acting  as  a  sort  of  architect  in  case 
of  necessity.  In  drawing  the  plans,  &c.,  Glossin  was  in 
the  custom  of  relying  upon  his  own  skill.  Bertram's  back 
was  towards  them  as  they  came  up  the  ascent,  and  he  was 
quite  shrouded  by  the  branches  of  the  large  tree,  so  that 
Glossin  was  not  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  stranger  till 
he  was  close  upon  him. 

'Yes,  sir,  as  I  have  often  said  before  to  you,  the  Old 
Place  is  a  perfect  quarry  of  hewn  stone,  and  it  would  be 
better  for  the  estate  if  it  were  all  down,  since  it  is  only 
a  den  for  smugglers.' 

At  this  instant  Bertram  turned  short  round  upon  Glossin 
at  the  distance  of  two  yards  only,  and  said,  'Would  you 
destroy  this  fine  old  castle,  sir?' 

His  face,  person,  and  voice  were  so  exactly  those  of  his 
father  in  his  best  days,  that  Glossin,  hearing  his  exclama- 
tion, and  seeing  such  a  sudden  apparition  in  the  shape 
of  his  patron,  and  on  nearly  the  very  spot  where  he  had 
expired,  almost  thought  the  grave  had  given  up  its  dead! 
He  staggered  back  two  or  three  paces,  as  if  he  had  received 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  331 

a  sudden  and  deadly  wound.  He  instantly  recovered,  how- 
ever, his  presence  of  mind,  stimulated  by  the  thrilling 
reflection  that  it  was  no  inhabitant  of  the  other  world 
which  stood  before  him,  but  an  injured  man,  whom  the 
slightest  want  of  dexterity  on  his  part  might  lead  to  acquaint- 
ance with  his  rights,  and  the  means  of  asserting  them  to 
his  utter  destruction.  Yet  his  ideas  were  so  much  con- 
fused by  the  shock  he  had  received,  that  his  first  question 
partook  of  the  alarm. 

'In  the  name  of  God,  how  came  you  here  ?'  said  Glossin. 

'How  came  I  here?"  repeated  Bertram,  surprised  at  the 
solemnity  of  the  address.  'I  landed  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
since  in  the  little  harbour  beneath  the  castle,  and  was  em- 
ploying a  moment's  leisure  in  viewing  these  fine  ruins.  I 
trust  there  is  no  intrusion?' 

'Intrusion,  sir?  Xo,  sir,'  said  Glossin,  in  some  degree 
recovering  his  breath,  and  then  whispered  a  few  words 
into  his  companion's  ear,  who  immediately  left  him  and 
descended  towards  the  house.  'Intrusion,  sir?  No,  sir, — 
you  or  any  gentleman  are  welcome  to  satisfy  your  curi- 
osity.' 

'I  thank  you,  sir,'  said  Bertram.  'They  call  this  the  Old 
Place,  I  am  informed  ?' 

'Yes,  sir;  in  distinction  to  the  New  Place,  my  house  there, 
below.' 

Glossin,  it  must  be  remarked,  was,  during  the  following 
dialogue,  on  the  one  hand  eager  to  learn  what  local  recollec- 
tions young  Bertram  had  retained  of  the  scenes  of  his 
infancy,  and,  on  the  other,  compelled  to  be  extremely 
cautious  in  his  replies,  lest  he  should  awaken  or  assist, 
by  some  name,  phrase,  or  anecdote,  the  slumbering  train 
of  association.  He  suffered,  indeed,  during  the  whole  scene, 
the  agonies  which  he  so  richly  deserved ;  yet  his  pride  and 
interest,  like  the  fortitude  of  a  North  American  Indian, 
manned  him  to  sustain  the  tortures  inflicted  at  once  by  the 
contending  stings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  of  hatred,  of 
fear,  and  of  suspicion. 

'I  wish  to  ask  the  name,  sir,'  said  Bertram,  'of  the  family 
to  whom  this  stately  ruin  belongs  ?' 

'It  is  my  property,  sir — my  name  is  Glossin.' 

D— 12 


333  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Glossin? — Glossin?' — repeated  Bertram,  as  if  the  answer 
were  somewhat  different  from  what  he  expected.  'I  beg 
your  pardon.  Mr.  Glossin ;  I  am  apt  to  be  very  absent.  May 
I  ask  if  the  castle  has  been  long  in  your  family?' 

'It  was  built.  I  believe,  long  ago,  by  a  family  called 
Mac-Dingawaie,'  answered  Glossin ;  suppressing,  for  ob- 
vious reasons,  the  more  familiar  sound  of  Bertram,  which 
might  have  awakened  the  recollections  which  he  was  anxious 
to  lull  to  rest,  and  slurring  with  an  evasive  answer  the  ques- 
tion concerning  the  endurance  of  his  own  possession. 

'And  how  do  you  read  the  half-defaced  motto,  sir.'  said 
Bertram,  'which  is  upon  that  scroll  above  the  entablature 
with  the  arms?' 

'I — I — I  really  do  not  exactly  know,'  replied  Glossin. 

'I  should  be  apt  to  make  it  out,  Our  Right  makes  our 
might.' 

'I  believe  it  is  something  of  that  kind,'  said  Glossin. 

'May  I  ask,  sir,'  said  the  stranger,  'if  it  is  your  family 
motto  ?' 

'N — n^— no — no — not  ours.  That  is,  I  believe,  the  motto 
of  the  former  people — mine  is — mine  is — in  fact  I  have  had 
some  correspondence  with  Mr.  Gumming  of  the  Lyon  Ofifice 
in  Edinburgh  about  mine.  He  writes  me,  the  Glossins 
anciently  bore  for  a  motto,  "He  who  takes  it,  makes  it."  ' 

'H  there  be  any  uncertainty,  sir,  and  the  case  were  mine,' 
said  Bertram,  'I  would  assume  the  old  motto,  which  seems 
to  me  the  better  of  the  two.' 

Glossin,  whose  tongue  by  this  time  clove  to  the  roof  of 
his  mouth,  only  answered  by  a  nod. 

'It  is  odd  enough.'  said  Bertram,  fixing  his  eye  upon  the 
arms  and  gateway,  and  partly  addressing  Glossin,  partly 
as  it  were  thinking  aloud — 'it  is  odd  the  tricks  which  our 
memory  plays  us.  The  remnants  of  an  old  prophecy,  or 
song,  or  rhyme,  of  some  kind  or  other,  return  to  my  recol- 
lection on  hearing  that  motto — Stay — it  is  a  strange  jingle 
of  sounds : 

The  dark  shall   be  light. 

And  the  wrong  made   right. 

When  Bertram's  right  and  Bertram's  might 

Shall  meet  on  


GUY    MANNERING  333 

I  cannot  remember  the  last  line — on  some  particular  height 
— height  is  the  rhyme,  I  am  sure ;  but  I  cannot  hit  upon 
the  preceding  word.' 

'Confound  your  memory,'  muttered  Glossin, —  'you  remem- 
ber by  far  too  much  of  it !' 

'There  are  other  rhymes  connected  with  these  early  recol- 
lections,' continued  the  young  man : — 'Pray,  sir,  is  there  any 
song  current  in  this  part  of  the  world  respecting  a  daughter 
of  the  King  of  the  Isle  of  Man  eloping  with  a  Scottish 
knight?' 

'I  am  the  worst  person  in  the  world  to  consult  upon 
legendary  antiquities,'  answered  Glossin. 

'I  could  sing  such  a  ballad,'  said  Bertram,  'from  one 
end  to  another,  when  I  was  a  boy. — You  must  know  I  left 
Scotland,  which  is  my  native  country,  very  young,  and 
those  who  brought  me  up  discouraged  all  my  attempts 
to  preserve  recollection  of  my  native  land, — on  account, 
I  believe,  of  a  boyish  wish  which  I  had  to  escape  from  their 
charge.' 

'Very  natural,'  said  Glossin,  but  speaking  as  if  his 
utmost  efforts  were  unable  to  unseal  his  lips  beyond  the 
width  of  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  so  that  his  whole  utterance 
was  a  kind  of  compressed  muttering,  very  different  from 
the  round,  bold,  bullying  voice  with  which  he  usually  spoke. 
Indeed  his  appearance  and  demeanour  during  all  this 
conversation  seemed  to  diminish  even  his  strength  and 
stature ;  so  that  he  appeared  to  wither  into  the  shadow 
of  himself,  now  advancing  one  foot,  now  the  other,  now 
stooping  and  wriggling  his  shoulders,  now  fumbling  with 
the  buttons  of  his  waistcoat,  now  clasping  his  hands 
together, — in  short,  he  was  the  picture  of  a  mean-spirited 
shuffling  rascal  in  the  very  agonies  of  detection.  To  these 
appearances  Bertram  was  totally  inattentive,  being  dragged 
on  as  it  were  by  the  current  of  his  own  associations.  In- 
deed, although  he  addressed  Glossin,  he  was  not  so  much 
thinking  of  him,  as  arguing  upon  the  embarrassing  state  of 
his  own  feelings  and  recollection.  'Yes,'  he  said,  '1  pre- 
served my  language  among  the  sailors,  most  of  whom  spoke 
English,  and  when  I  could  get  into  a  corner  by  myself, 
I  used  to  sing  all  that  song  over  from  beginning  to  end. — 


331  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

I  have  forgot  it  all  now — but  T  remember  the  tune  well, 
though  I  cannot  guess  what  should  at  present  so  strongly 
recall  it  to  my  memory.' 

He  took  his  flageolet  from  his  pocket,  and  played  a 
simple  melody.  Apparently  the  tune  awoke  the  correspond- 
ing associations  of  a  damsel,  who,  close  beside  a  fine  spring 
about  half-way  down  the  descent,  and  which  had  once 
supplied  the  castle  with  water,  was  engaged  in  bleaching 
linen.     She  immediately  took  up  the  song: 

'Are  these  the  Links  of  Forth,  she  said, 

Or  are  they  the  crooks  of  Dee, 
Or  the  bonny  woods  of  Warroch-Head 

That  I  so  fain  would  see  ?' 

'By  heaven,'  said  Bertram,  'it  is  the  very  ballad !  I  must 
learn  these  words  from  the  girl.' 

'Confusion!'  thought  Glossin;  'if  I  cannot  put  a  stop  to 
this,  all  will  be  out.  Oh,  the  devil  take  all  ballads,  and 
ballad-makers,  and  ballad-singers !  and  that  d — d  jade  too. 

to  set  up  her  pipe ! You  will  have  time  enough  for  this 

on  some  other  occasion,'  he  said  aloud;  'at  present' — 
(for  now  he  saw  his  emissary  with  two  or  three  men  com- 
ing up  the  bank) — 'at  present  we  must  have  some  more 
serious  conversation  together.' 

'How  do  you  mean,  sir?'  said  Bertram,  turning  short 
upon  him,  and  not  liking  the  tone  which  he  made  use  of. 

'Why,  sir,  as  to  that — I  believe  your  name  is  Brown?' 
said  Glossin. 

'And  what  of  that,  sir?' 

Glossin  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  see  how  near  his 
party  had  approached;  they  were  coming  fast  on.  'Van- 
beest  Brown?  if  I  mistake  not.' 

'And  what  of  that,  sir?'  said  Bertram,  with  increasing 
astonishment  and  displeasure. 

'Why,  in  that  case,'  said  Glossin,  observing  his  friends 
had  now  got  upon  the  level  space  close  beside  them — 'in 
that  case  you  are  my  prisoner  in  the  king's  name !'  At 
the  same  time  he  stretched  his  hand  towards  Bertram's 
collar,  while  two  of  the  men  who  had  come  up  seized  upon 
his  arms;  he  shook  himself,  however,  free  of  their  grasp 


) 


GUY    MANNERIXG  335 

by  a  violent  effort,  in  which  he  pitched  the  most  pertina- 
cious down  the  bank,  and,  drawing  his  cutlass,  stood  on 
the  defensive,  while  those  who  had  felt  his  strength  re- 
coiled from  his  presence,  and  gazed  at  a  safe  distance. 
'Observe,'  he  called  out  at  the  same  time,  'that  I  have  no 
purpose  to  resist  legal  authority;  satisfy  me  that  you  have 
a  magistrate's  warrant,  and  are  authorized  to  make  this 
arrest,  and  I  will  obey  it  quietly ;  but  let  no  man  who 
loves  his  life  venture  to  approach  me,  till  I  am  satisfied 
for  what  crime,  and  by  whose  authority,  I  am  appre- 
hended.' 

Glossin  then  caused  one  of  the  officers  to  show  a  warrant 
for  the  apprehension  of  Vanbeest  Brown,  accused  of  the 
crime  of  wilfully  and  maliciously  shooting  at  Charles 
Hazelwood,  younger  of  Hazlewood,  with  an  intent  to  kill, 
and  also  of  other  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  and  which 
appointed  him,  having  been  so  apprehended,  to  be  brought 
before  the  next  magistrate  for  examination.  The  warrant 
being  formal,  and  the  fact  such  as  he  could  not  deny, 
Bertram  threw  down  his  weapon,  and  submitted  himself 
to  the  officers,  who,  flying  on  him  with  eagerness  corres- 
ponding to  their  former  pusillanimity,  were  about  to  load 
him  with  irons,  alleging  the  strength  and  activity  which 
he  had  displayed  as  a  justification  of  this  severity.  But 
Glossin  was  ashamed  or  afraid  to  permit  this  unnecessary 
insult,  and  directed  the  prisoner  to  be  treated  with  all  the 
decency,  and  even  respect,  that  was  consistent  with  safety. 
Afraid,  however,  to  introduce  him  into  his  own  house 
where  still  further  subjects  of  recollection  might  have  been 
suggested,  and  anxious  at  the  same  time  to  cover  his  own 
proceedings  by  the  sanction  of  another's  authority,  he 
ordered  his  carriage  (for  he  had  lately  set  up  a  carriage) 
to  be  got  ready,  and  in  the  meantime  directed  refreshments 
to  be  given  to  the  prisoner  and  the  officers,  who  were  con- 
signed to  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  old  castle,  until  the 
means  of  conveyance  for  examination  before  a  magis- 
trate should  be  provided. 


CHAPTER  XLII 
Bring  in  the  evidence 


Thou  robed  man  of  justice,  take  thy  place. 
And  thou,  his  yoke-fellow  of  equity. 
Bench  by  his  side — you  are  of  the  commission. 
Sit  you  too. 

King  Lear. 

WHILE  the  carriage  was  getting  ready,  Glossin  had 
a  letter  to  compose,  about  which  he  wasted  no 
small  time.  It  was  to  his  neighbour,  as  he  was 
fond  of  calling  him.  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood, 
the  head  of  an  ancient  and  powerful  interest  in  the  county, 
which  had,  in  the  decadence  of  the  Ellangowan  family, 
gradually  succeeded  to  much  of  their  authority  and  influence. 
The  present  representative  of  the  family  was  an  elderly 
man,  dotingly  fond  of  his  own  family,  which  was  limited  to 
an  only  son  and  daughter,  and  stoically  indifferent  to  the 
fate  of  all  mankind  besides.  For  the  rest,  he  was  honour- 
able in  his  general  dealings,  because  he  was  afraid  to  suf- 
fer the  censure  of  the  world,  and  just  from  a  better 
motive.  He  was  presumptuously  over-conceited  on  the 
score  of  family  pride  and  importance — a  feeling  consider- 
ably enhanced  by  his  late  succession  to  the  title  of  a  Nova 
Scotia  Baronet;  and  he  hated  the  memory  of  the  Ellan- 
gowan family,  though  now  a  memory  only,  because  a 
certain  baron  of  that  house  was  traditionally  reported  to 
have  caused  the  founder  of  the  Hazlewood  family  to  hold 
his  stirrup  until  he  mounted  into  his  saddle.  In  his  general 
deportment  he  was  pompous  and  important,  affecting  a 
species  of  florid  elocution,  which  often  became  ridiculous 
from  his  misarranging  the  triads  and  quaternions  with 
which  he  loaded  his  sentences. 

To  this  personage  Glossin  was  now  to  write  in  such  a 
conciliatory  style  as  might  be  most  acceptable  to  his  vanity 
and  family  pride,  and  the  following  was  the  form  of  his 
note : — 

336 


GUY    MANNERING  337 

'Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin'  (he  longed  to  add,  of  Ellangowan,  but  pru- 
dence prevailed,  and  he  suppressed  that  territorial  designation)  — 
'Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin  has  the  honour  to  offer  his  most  respectful 
compliments  to  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,  and  to  inform  him,  that  he 
has  this  morning  been  fortunate  enough  to  secure  the  person  who 
wounded  Mr.  C.  Hazlewood.  As  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  may  probably 
choose  to  conduct  the  examination  of  this  criminal  himself,  Mr.  G. 
Glossin  will  cause  the  man  to  be  carried  to  the  inn  at  Kippletringan, 
or  to  Hazlewood-House,  as  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  may  be  pleased 
to  direct :  And,  with  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood's  permission,  Mr.  G. 
Glossin  will  attend  him  at  either  of  these  places  with  the  proofs 
and  declarations  which  he  has  been  so  fortunate  as  to  collect  re- 
specting this  atrocious  business.' 
Addressed, 

'Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood,  Bart. 
'Hazlewood-House,  &c. 

'Ell".  G".  I 

Tuesday.'     f 

This  note  he  dispatched  b)'  a  servant  on  horseback,  and 
having  given  the  man  some  time  to  get  ahead,  and 
desired  him  to  ride  fast,  he  ordered  two  officers  of  justice 
to  get  into  the  carriage  with  Bertram;  and  he  himself, 
mounting  his  horse,  accompanied  them  at  a  slow  pace  to 
the  point  where  the  roads  to  Kippletringan  and  Hazle- 
wood-House separated,  and  there  awaited  the  return  of  his 
messenger,  in  order  that  his  further  route  might  be  deter- 
mined by  the  answer  he  should  receive  from  the  Baronet. 
In  about  half  an  hour  his  servant  returned  with  the  fol- 
lowing answer,  handsomely  folded,  and  sealed  with  the 
Hazlewood  arms,  having  the  Novia  Scotia  badge  depend- 
ing from  the  shield: — 

'Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood  returns  Mr.  G.  Glossin's 
compliments,  and  thanks  him  for  the  trouble  he  has  taken  in  a 
matter  affecting  the  safety  of  Sir  Robert's  family.  Sir  R.  H.  requests 
Mr.  G.  G.  will  have  the  goodness  to  bring  the  prisoner  to  Hazlewood- 
House  for  examination,  with  the  other  proofs  or  declarations  which 
he  mentions.  And  after  the  business  is  over,  in  case  Mr.  G.  G.  is 
not  otherwise  engaged,  Sir  R.  and  Lady  Hazlewood  request  his 
company   to   dinner.' 

Addressed, 

'Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin,  &c. 
'Hazlewood  House,  \ 
Tuesday.'  f 

'Soh !'  thought  Mr.  Glossin,  'here  is  one  finger  in  at 
least,  and  that   I  will  make  the  means  of   introducmg  my 


338  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

whole  hand.  But  I  must  first  get  clear  of  this  wretched 
young  fellow. — I  think  I  can  manage  Sir  Robert.  He  is 
dull  and  pompous,  and  will  be  alike  disposed  to  listen  to 
my  suggestions  upon  the  law  of  the  case,  and  to  assume 
the  credit  of  acting  upon  them  as  his  own  proper  motion. 
So  I  shall  have  the  advantage  of  being  the  real  magistrate, 
without  the  odium  of  responsibility.' 

As  he  cherished  these  hopes  and  expectations,  the  carriage 
approached  Hazlewood-House  through  a  noble  avenue  of 
old  oaks,  which  shrouded  the  ancient  abbey-resembling 
building  so  called.  It  was  a  large  edifice  built  at  different 
periods,  part  having  actually  been  a  priory,  upon  the 
suppression  of  which,  in  the  time  of  Queen  Mary,  the 
first  of  the  family  had  obtained  a  gift  of  the  house  and 
surrounding  lands  from  the  crown.  It  was  pleasantly 
situated  in  a  large  deer  park,  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
we  have  before  mentioned.  The  scenery  around  was  of  a 
dark,  solemn,  and  somewhat  melancholy  cast,  according  well 
with  the  architecture  of  the  house.  Everything  appeared 
to  be  kept  in  the  highest  possible  order,  and  announced 
the  opulence  and  rank  of  the  proprietor. 

As  Mr.  Glossin's  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  hall, 
Sir  Robert  reconnoitred  the  new  vehicle  from  the  windows. 
According  to  his  aristocratic  feelings,  there  was  a  degree 
of  presumption  in  this  novns  homo,  this  Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin, 
late  writer  in  ,  presuming  to  set  up  such  an  accommo- 
dation at  all ;  but  his  wrath  was  mitigated  when  he  ob- 
served that  the  mantle  upon  the  panels  only  bore  a  plain 
cipher  of  G.  G.  This  apparent  modesty  was  indeed  solely 
owing  to  the  delay  of  Mr.  Gumming  of  the  Lyon  Office, 
who,  being  at  that  time  engaged  in  discovering  and  ma- 
triculating the  arms  of  two  commissaries  from  North 
America,  three  English-Irish  peers,  and  two  great  Jamaica 
traders,  had  been  more  slow  than  usual  in  finding  an 
escutcheon  for  the  new  Laird  of  Ellangowan.  But  his  delay 
told  to  the  advantage  of  Glossin  in  the  opinion  of  the  proud 
Baronet. 

While  the  officers  of  justice  detained  their  prisoner  in 
a  sort  of  steward's  room,  Mr.  Glossin  was  ushered  into 
what  was  called  the  great  oak-parlour,  a  long  room,  panelled 


GUY    MANXERING  339 

with  well-varnished  wainscot,  and  adorned  with  the  grim 
portraits  of  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood's  ancestry.  The  visitor, 
who  had  no  internal  consciousness  of  worth  to  balance 
that  of  meanness  of  birth,  felt  his  inferiority,  and  by  the 
depth  of  his  bow  and  the  obsequiousness  of  his  demeanour, 
showed  that  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan  was  sunk  for  the 
time  in  the  old  and  submissive  habits  of  the  quondam 
retainer  of  the  law.  He  would  have  persuaded  himself, 
indeed,  that  he  was  only  humouring  the  pride  of  the  old 
Baronet,  for  the  purpose  of  turning  it  to  his  own  advantage ; 
— but  his  feelings  were  of  a  mingled  nature,  and  he  felt 
the  influences  of  those  very  prejudices  which  he  pretended 
to  flatter. 

The  Baronet  received  his  visitor  with  that  condescending 
parade  which  was  meant  at  once  to  assert  his  own  vast 
superiority,  and  to  show  the  generosity  and  courtesy  with 
which  he  could  waive  it,  and  descend  to  the  level  of  ordinary 
conversation  with  ordinary  men.  He  thanked  Glossin  for 
his  attention  to  a  matter  in  which  'young  Hazelwood'  was 
so  intimately  concerned,  and,  pointing  to  his  family  pic- 
tures, observed,  was  a  gracious  smile,  'Indeed  these  vener- 
able gentlemen,  Mr.  Glossin,  are  as  much  obliged  as  1  am 
in  this  case,  for  the  labour,  pains,  care,  and  trouble  which 
you  have  taken  in  their  behalf ;  and  I  have  no  doubt,  were 
they  capable  of  expressing  themselves,  would  join  me,  sir, 
in  thanking  you  for  the  favour  you  have  conferred  upon 
the  house  of  Hazlewood,  by  taking  care,  and  trouble,  sir, 
and  interest,  in  behalf  of  the  young  gentleman  who  is  to 
continue  their  name  and  family.' 

Thrice  bowed  Glossin,  and  each  time  more  profoundly 
than  before;  once  in  honour  of  the  knight  who  stood 
upright  before  him,  once  in  respect  to  the  quiet  personages 
who  patiently  hung  upon  the  wainscot,  and  a  third  time 
in  deference  to  the  young  gentleman  who  was  to  carry  on 
the  name  and  family.  Roturicr  as  he  was.  Sir  Robert  was 
gratified  by  the  homage  which  he  rendered,  and  proceeded, 
in  a  tone  of  gracious  familiarity — 'And  now,  Mr.  Glossin, 
my  exceeding  good  friend,  you  must  allow  me  to  avail 
myself  of  your  knowledge  of  law  in  our  proceedings  in 
this  matter.     I  am  not  much  in  the  habit  of  acting  as  a 


;U0  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

justice  of  the  peace;  it  suits  better  with  other  gentlemen, 
whose  domestic  and  family  affairs  require  less  constant 
superintendence,  attention,  and  management,  than  mine.' 

Of  course,  whatever  small  assistance  Mr.  Glossin  could 
render  was  entirely  at  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood's  service; 
but,  as  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood's  name  stood  high  in  the  list 
of  the  faculty,  the  said  Mr.  Glossin  could  not  presume  to 
hope  it  could  be  either  necessary  or  useful. 

'Why,  my  good  sir,  you  will  understand  me  only  to 
mean,  that  I  am  something  deficient  in  the  practical  knowl- 
edge of  the  ordinary  details  of  justice-business.  I  was  in- 
deed educated  to  the  bar,  and  might  boast  perhaps  at  one 
time,  that  I  had  made  some  progress  in  the  speculative, 
and  abstract,  and  abstruse  doctrines  of  our  municipal  code ; 
but  there  is  in  the  present  day  so  little  opportunity  of  a 
man  of  family  and  fortune  rising  to  that  eminence  at  the 
bar,  which  is  attained  by  adventurers  who  are  as  willing 
to  plead  for  John-a-Nokes  as  for  the  first  noble  of  the 
land,  that  I  was  really  early  disgusted  with  practice.  The 
first  case,  indeed,  which  was  laid  on  my  table,  quite  sickened 
me ;  it  respected  a  bargain,  sir,  of  tallow,  between  a  butcher 
and  a  candlemaker ;  and  I  found  it  was  expected  that  I 
should  grease  my  mouth,  not  only  with  their  vulgar  names, 
but  with  all  the  technical  terms,  and  phrases,  and  peculiar 
language  of  their  dirty  arts.  Upon  my  honour,  my  good 
sir,  I  have  never  been  able  to  bear  the  smell  of  a  tallow- 
candle  since.' 

Pitying,  as  seemed  to  be  expected,  the  mean  use  to  which 
the  Baronet's  faculties  had  been  degraded  on  this  melan- 
choly occasion,  Mr.  Glossin  offered  to  officiate  as  clerk  or 
assessor,  or  in  any  way  in  which  he  could  be  most  use- 
ful. 'And  with  a  view  to  possessing  you  of  the  whole 
business,  and  in  the  first  place,  there  will,  I  believe,  be 
no  difficulty  in  proving  the  main  fact,  that  this  was  the 
person  who  fired  the  unhappy  piece.  Should  he  deny  it,  it 
can  be  proved  by  Mr.  Hazlewood,  I  presume?' 

'Young  Hazlewood  is  not  at  home  to-day,  Mr.  Glossin.' 

'But  we  can  have  the  oath  of  the  servant  who  attended 
him,'  said  the  ready  Mr.  Glossin ;  'indeed  1  hardly  think 
the  fact  will  be  disputed.     I  am  more  apprehensive,  that, 


1 


J 


GUY    MANNERING  341 

from  the  too  favourable  and  indulgent  manner  in  which 
I  have  understood  that  Mr.  Hazlewood  has  been  pleased 
to  represent  the  business,  the  assault  may  be  considered 
as  accidental,  and  the  injury  as  unintentional,  so  that  the 
fellow  may  be  immediately  set  at  liberty,  to  do  more  mis- 
chief.' 

'I  have  not  the  honour  to  know  the  gentleman  who  now 
holds  the  office  of  king's  advocate,'  replied  Sir  Robert, 
gravely;  'but  I  presume,  sir — nay,  I  am  confident,  that 
he  will  consider  the  mere  fact  of  having  wounded  young 
Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood,  even  by  inadvertency,  to  take 
the  matter  in  its  mildest  and  gentlest,  and  in  its  most 
favourable,  and  improbable  light,  as  a  crime  which  will 
be  too  easily  atoned  by  imprisonment,  and  as  more  deserving 
of  deportation.' 

'Indeed,  Sir  Robert,'  said  his  assenting  brother  in  justice, 
*I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion ;  but,  I  don't  know  how  it 
is,  I  have  observed  the  Edinburgh  gentlemen  of  the  bar, 
and  even  the  officers  of  the  crown,  pique  themselves  upon 
an  indifferent  administration  of  justice,  without  respect  to 
rank  and  family;  and  I  should  fear ' 

'How,  sir,  without  respect  to  rank  and  family?  Will 
you  tell  me  that  doctrine  can  be  held  by  men  of  birth  and 
legal  education?  No,  sir;  if  a  trifle  stolen  in  the  street 
is  termed  mere  pickery,  but  is  elevated  into  sacrilege  if 
the  crime  be  committed  in  a  church,  so,  according  to  the 
just  gradations  of  society,  the  guilt  of  an  injury  is  enhanced 
by  the  rank  of  the  person  to  whom  it  is  offered,  done,  or 
perpetrated,  sir.' 

Glossin  bowed  low  to  this  declaration  ex  cathedra,  but 
observed,  that  in  case  of  the  very  worst,  and  of  such  un- 
natural doctrines  being  actually  held  as  he  had  already 
hinted,  'the  law  had  another  hold  on  Mr.  Vanbeest  Brown.' 

'Vanbeest  Brown!  is  that  the  fellow's  name?  Good  God! 
that  young  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood  should  have  had  his 
life  endangered,  the  clavicle  of  his  right  shoulder  con- 
siderably lacerated  and  dislodged,  several  large  drops  or 
slugs  deposited  in  the  acromion  process,  as  the  account 
of  the  family  surgeon  expressly  bears, — and  all  by  an 
obscure  wretch  named  Vanbeest  Brown!' 


312  SIR   WALTER    SCOTT 

'Why,  really,  Sir  Robert,  it  is  a  thing  which  one  can 
hardly  bear  to  think  of;  but,  begging  ten  thousand  pardons 
for  resuming  what  I  was  about  to  say,  a  person  of  the 
same  name  is,  as  appears  from  these  papers'  (producing 
Dirk  Hatteraick's  pocket-book),  "a  mate  to  the  smuggling 
vessel  who  offered  such  violence  at  Woodbourne,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  this  is  the  same  individual ;  which,  how- 
ever, your  acute  discrimination  will  easily  be  able  to 
ascertain.' 

'The  same,  my  good  sir,  he  must  assuredly  be — it  would 
be  injustice  even  to  the  meanest  of  the  people,  to  suppose 
there  could  be  found  among  them  fn'o  persons  doomed 
to  bear  a  name  so  shocking  to  one's  ears  as  this  of  Van- 
beest  Brown.' 

'True,  Sir  Robert;  most  unquestionably;  there  cannot 
be  a  shadow  of  doubt  of  it.  But  you  see  further,  that 
this  circumstance  accounts  for  the  man's  desperate  con- 
duct. You,  Sir  Robert,  will  discover  the  motive  for  his 
crime — you,  I  say,  will  discover  it  without  difficulty,  on 
your  giving  your  mind  to  the  examination ;  for  my  part, 
I  cannot  help  suspecting  the  moving  spring  to  have  been 
revenge  for  the  gallantry  with  which  Mr.  Hazlewood,  with 
all  the  spirit  of  his  renowned  forefathers,  defended  the 
house  at  Woodbourne  against  this  villain  and  his  lawless 
companions.' 

'I  will  inquire  into  it,  my  good  sir,'  said  the  learned 
Baronet.  'Yet  even  now  I  venture  to  conjecture  that  I 
shall  adopt  the  solution  or  explanation  of  this  riddle, 
enigma,  or  mystery,  which  you  have  in  some  degree  thus 
started.  Yes !  revenge  it  must  be — and,  good  Heaven ! 
entertained  by  and  against  whom? — entertained,  fostered, 
cherished,  against  young  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood,  and 
in  part  carried  into  effect,  executed,  and  implemented,  by 
the  hand  of  Vanbeest  Brown  I  These  are  dreadful  days 
indeed,  my  worthy  neighbour'  (this  epithet  indicated  a 
rapid  advance  in  the  Baronet's  good  graces) — 'days  when 
the  bulwarks  of  society  are  shaken  to  their  mighty  base, 
and  that  rank,  which  forms,  as  it  were,  its  highest  grace 
and  ornament,  is  mingled  and  confused  with  the  viler  parts 
of  the  architecture.     O  my  good   Mr.   Gilbert   Glossin,   in 


GUY    MAXNERING  343 

my  time,  sir,  the  use  of  swords  and  pistols,  and  such  hon- 
ourable arms,  was  reserved  by  the  nobility  and  gentry  to 
themselves,  and  the  disputes  of  the  vulgar  were  decided 
by  the  weapons  which  nature  had  given  them,  or  by  cud- 
gels, cut,  broken,  or  hewed  out  of  the  next  wood.  But 
now,  sir,  the  clouted  shoe  of  the  peasant  galls  the  kibe  or 
the  courtier.  The  lower  ranks  have  their  quarrels,  sir,  and 
their  points  of  honour,  and  their  revenges,  which  they  must 
bring,  forsooth,  to  fatal  arbitrament.  But  well,  well !  it 
will  last  my  time — let  us  have  in  this  fellow,  this  Vanbeest 
Brown,  and  make  an  end  of  him  at  least  for  the  present.' 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


'Twas  he 


Gave  heat  unto  the  injury,  which  returned, 
Like  a  petard   ill   lighted,   into   the   bosom 
Of  him  gave  fire  to't.     Yet  I  hope  his  hurt 
Is  not  so  dangerous  but  he  may  recover. 

Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn. 

THE  prisoner  was  now  presented  before  the  two  wor- 
shipful magistrates.  Glossin,  partly  from  some  com- 
punctious visitings,  and  partly  out  of  his  cautious 
resolution  to  suffer  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  to  be  the  osten- 
sible manager  of  the  whole  examination,  looked  down  upon 
the  table,  and  busied  himself  with  reading  and  arrang- 
ing the  papers  respecting  the  business,  only  now  and  then 
throwing  in  a  skilful  catchword  as  prompter,  when  he  saw 
the  principal,  and  apparently  most  active,  magistrate  stand 
in  need  of  a  hint.  As  for  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,  he  as- 
sumed, on  his  part,  a  happy  mixture  of  the  austerity  of 
the  justice,  combined  with  the  display  of  personal  dignity 
appertaining  to  the  Baronet  of  ancient   family. 

'There,  constables,  let  him  stand  there  at  the  bottom 
of  the  table. — Be  so  good  as  look  me  in  the  face,  sir,  and 
raise  your  voice  as  you  answer  the  questions  which  I  am 
going  to  put  to  you.' 

'May  I  beg,  in  the  first  place,  to  know,  sir,  who  it  is 
that  takes  the  trouble  to  interrogate  me?'  said  the  prisoner; 
'for  the  honest  gentlemen  who  have  brought  me  here  have 
not  been  pleased  to  furnish  any  information  upon  that 
point.' 

'And  pray,  sir,'  answered  Sir  Robert,  'what  has  my 
name  and  quality  to  do  with  the  questions  I  am  about 
to  ask  you?' 

'Nothing,  perhaps,  sir,'  replied  Bertram;  'but  it  may 
considerably   influence   my   disposition  to  answer   them.' 

'Why,  then,  sir,  you  will  pJease  ta  be  informed  that  you 

34.1 


GUY    MANNERING  345 

are  in  the  presence  of  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood, 
and  another  justice  of  peace  for  this  count>' — that  's  all.' 

As  this  intimation  produced  a  less  stunning  effect  upon 
the  prisoner  than  he  had  anticipated,  Sir  Robert  proceeded 
in  his  investigation  with  an  increasing  dislike  to  the  object 
of  it. 

'Is  your  name  Vanbeest  Brown,  sir?' 

'It  is,'  answered  the  prisoner. 

'So  far  well ; — and  how  are  we  to  design  you  further, 
sir?'  demanded  the  Justice. 

'Captain  in  his  Majesty's  regiment  of  horse,'  an- 
swered  Bertram. 

The  Baronet's  ears  received  this  intimation  with  astonish- 
ment ;  but  he  was  refreshed  in  courage  by  an  incredulous 
look  from  Glossin,  and  by  hearing  him  gently  utter  a  sort 
of  inter jectional  whistle,  in  a  note  of  surprise  and  con- 
tempt. 'I  believe,  my  friend,'  said  Sir  Robert,  'we  shall 
find  for  you,  before  we  part,  a  more  humble  title.' 

'If  you  do,  sir,'  replied  his  prisoner,  'I  shall  willingly 
submit  to  any  punishment  which  such  an  imposture  shall 
be  thought   to  deserve.' 

'Well,  sir,  we  shall  see,'  continued  Sir  Robert.  'Do  you 
know  young  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood?' 

'I  never  saw  the  gentleman  who  I  am  informed  bears 
that  name  excepting  once,  and  I  regret  that  it  was  under 
very  unpleasant  circumstances.' 

'You  mean  to  acknowledge,  then,'  said  the  Baronet,  'that 
you  inflicted  upon  young  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood  that 
wound  which  endangered  his  life,  considerably  lacerated 
the  clavicle  of  his  right  shoulder,  and  deposited,  as  the 
family  surgeon  declares,  several  large  drops  or  slugs  in 
the  acromion  process?' 

'Why,  sir,'  replied  Bertram,  *I  can  only  say  I  am  equally 
ignorant  of  and  sorry  for  the  extent  of  the  damage  which 
the  young  gentleman  has  sustained.  I  met  him  in  a  narrow 
path,  walking  with  two  ladies  and  a  servant,  and  before 
I  could  either  pass  them  or  address  them,  this  young 
Hazlewood  took  his  gun  from  his  servant,  presented  it 
against  my  body,  and  commanded  me  in  the  most  haughty 
tone  to  stand  back.     I  was  neither  inclined  to  submit  to 


346  SIR   WALTER    SCOTT 

his  authority,  nor  to  leave  him  in  possession  of  the  means 
to  injure  me,  which  he  seemed  disposed  to  use  with  such 
rashness.  I  therefore  closed  with  him  for  the  purpose  of 
disarming  him;  and  just  as  I  had  nearly  effected  my  pur- 
pose, the  piece  went  off  accidentally,  and,  to  my  regret 
then  and  since,  inflicted  upon  the  young  gentleman  a  severer 
chastisement  than  I  desired,  though  I  am  glad  to  under- 
stand it  is  like  to  prove  no  more  than  his  unprovoked  folly 
deserved.' 

'And  so,  sir,'  said  the  Baronet,  every  feature  swollen 
with  offended  dignity, — 'yo".  sir,  admit,  sir,  that  it  was 
your  purpose,  sir,  and  your  intention,  sir,  and  the  real  jet 
and  object  of  your  assault,  sir,  to  disarm  young  Hazlewood 
of  Hazlewood  of  his  gun,  sir,  or  his  fowling-piece,  or  his 
fuzee,  or  whatever  you  please  to  call  it,  sir,  upon  the  king's 
highway,  sir  ? — I  think  this  will  do,  my  worthy  neighbour ! 
I  think  he  should  stand  committed?' 

'You  are  by  far  the  best  judge.  Sir  Robert,'  said  Glossin, 
in  his  most  insinuating  tone;  'but  if  I  might  presume  to 
hint,  there  was  something  about  these  smugglers.' 

'Very  true,  good  sir. — And  besides,  sir,  you,  Vanbeest 
Brown,  who  call  yourself  a  captain  in  his  Majesty's 
service,  are  no  better  or  worse  than  a  rascally  mate  of  a 
smuggler !' 

'Really,  sir,'  said  Bertram,  'you  are  an  old  gentleman, 
and  acting  under  some  strange  delusion,  otherwise  I  should 
be  very  angry  with  you.' 

'Old  gentleman,  sir ! — strange  delusion,  sir !'  said  Sir  Rob- 
ert, colouring  with  indignation — 'I  protest  and  declare 

Why,  sir,  have  you  any  papers  or  letters  that  can  estab- 
lish your  pretended  rank,  and  estate,  and  commission?' 

"None  at  present,  sir,'  answered  Bertram ; — 'but  in  the 
return  of  a  post  or  two ' 

'And  how  do  you,  sir,'  continued  the  Baronet,  'if  you 
are  a  captain  in  his  Majesty's  service,  how  do  you  chance 
to  be  travelling  in  Scotland  without  letters  of  introduction, 
credentials,  baggage,  or  anything  belonging  to  your  pre- 
tended rank,  estate,  and  condition,  as  I  said  before?' 

'Sir,'  replied  the  prisoner,  'I  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
robbed  of  my  clothes  and  baggage.' 


GUY    MANNERING  347 

'Oho !  then  you  are  the  gentleman  who  took  a  post- 
chaise   from  to   Kippletringan,   gave   the   boy  the  slip 

on  the  road,  and  sent  two  of  your  accomplices  to  beat  the 
boy  and  bring  away  the  baggage?' 

'I  was,  sir,  in  a  carriage  as  you  describe,  was  obliged 
to  alight  in  the  snow,  and  lost  my  way  endeavouring  to 
find  the  road  to  Kippletringan.  The  landlady  of  the  inn 
will  inform  you  that  on  my  arrival  there  the  next  day,  my 
first  inquiries  were  after  the  boy.' 

'Then  give  me  leave  to  ask  where  j-ou  spent  the  night? — 
not  in  the  snow,  I  presume?  you  do  not  suppose  that  will 
pass,  or  be  taken,  credited,  and  received?' 

'I  beg  leave,'  said  Bertram,  his  recollection  turning  to 
the  gipsy  female,  and  to  the  prom.ise  he  had  given  her, 
'I  beg  leave  to  decline  answering  that  question.' 

T  thought  as  much,'  said  Sir  Robert. — ■\^^ere  you  not, 
during  that  night,  in  the  ruins  of  Derncleugh? — in  the  ruins 
of   Derncleugh,  sir?' 

T  have  told  you  that  I  do  not  intend  answering  that 
question,'  replied  Bertram. 

'Well,  sir,  then  you  will  stand  committed,  sir,'  said  Sir 
Robert,  'and  be  sent  to  prison,  sir,  that's  all.  sir. — Have 
the  goodness  to  look  at  these  papers :  are  you  the  Van- 
beest  Brown  who  is  there  mentioned?' 

It  must  be  remarked  that  Glossin  had  shuffled  among  the 
papers  some  writings  which  really  did  belong  to  Bertram, 
and  which  had  been  found  by  the  officers  in  the  old  vault 
where   his  portmanteau   was   ransacked. 

'Some  of  these  papers,'  said  Bertram,  looking  over  them, 
'are  mine,  and  were  in  my  portfolio  when  it  was  stolen 
from  the  post-chaise.  They  are  memoranda  of  little  value, 
and,  I  see,  have  been  carefully  selected  as  affording  no 
evidence  of  my  rank  or  character,  which  many  of  the 
other  papers  would  have  established  fully.  They  are  mingled 
with  ship-accounts  and  other  papers,  belonging  apparently 
to  a  person  of  the  same  name.' 

'And  wilt  thou  attempt  to  persuade  me,  friend,'  demanded 
Sir  Robert,  'that  there  are  two  persons  in  this  country,  at 
the  same  time  of  thy  very  uncommon  and  awkwardly 
sounding   name  ?' 


348  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'I  really  do  not  see,  sir,  as  there  is  an  old  Hazlewood 
and  a  young  Hazlewood,  why  there  should  not  be  an  old 
and  a  young  Vanbeest  Brown.  And,  to  speak  seriously, 
I  was  educated  in  Holland,  and  I  know  that  this  name, 
however  uncouth  it  may  sound  in  British  ears ' 

Glossin,  conscious  that  the  prisoner  was  now  about  to 
enter  upon  dangerous  ground,  interfered,  though  the  inter- 
ruption was  unnecessary,  for  the  purpose  of  diverting  the 
attention  of  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,  who  was  speechless 
and  motionless  with  indignation  at  the  presumptuous  com- 
parison implied  in  Bertram's  last  speech.  In  fact,  the  veins 
of  his  throat  and  of  his  temples  swelled  almost  to  burst- 
ing, and  he  sat  with  the  indignant  and  disconcerted  air 
of  one  who  has  received  a  mortal  insult  from  a  quarter 
to  which  he  holds  it  unmeet  and  indecorous  to  make  any 
reply.  While  with  a  bent  brow  and  an  angry  eye  he  was 
drawing  in  his  breath  slowly  and  majestically,  and  puffing 
it  forth  again  with  deep  and  solemn  exertion,  Glossin  stepped 
in  to  his  assistance.  'I  should  think,  now.  Sir  Robert, 
with  great  submission,  that  this  matter  may  be  closed. 
One  of  the  constables,  besides  the  pregnant  proof  already 
produced,  offers  to  make  oath,  that  the  sword  of  which 
the  prisoner  was  this  morning  deprived  (while  using  it, 
by  the  way,  in  resistance  to  a  legal  warrant)  was  a  cutlass 
taken  from  him  in  a  fray  between  the  officers  and  smugglers, 
just  previous  to  their  attack  upon  Woodbourne.  And  yet,' 
he  added,  'I  would  not  have  you  form  any  rash  construction 
upon  that  subject;  perhaps  the  young  man  can  explain  how 
he  came  by  that  weapon.' 

'That  question,  sir,'  said  Bertram,  'I  shall  also  leave  un- 
answered.' 

'There  is  yet  another  circumstances  to  be  inquired  into, 
always  under  Sir  Robert's  leave,'  insinuated  Glossin.  'This 
prisoner  put  into  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish  of  Kip- 
pletringan,  a  parcel  containing  a  variety  of  gold  coins 
and  valuable  articles  of  different  kinds.  Perhaps,  'Sir 
Robert,  you  might  think  it  right  to  ask,  how  he  came  by 
property  of  a  description  which  seldom  occurs.' 

'You,  sir — Mr.  Vanbeest  Brown,  sir — you  hear  the  ques- 
tion, sir,  which  the  gentleman  asks  you?' 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  349 

'I  have  particular  reasons  for  declining  to  answer  that 
question,'   answered   Bertram. 

'Then  I  am  afraid,  sir/  said  Glossin,  who  had  brought 
matters  to  the  point  he  desired  to  reach,  'our  duty  must  lay 
us  under  the  necessity  to  sign  a  warrant  of  commital.' 

'As  you  please,  sir,'  answered  Bertram :  'take  care,  how- 
ever, what  you  do.     Observe,  that  I  inform  you  that  I  am 

a  captain  in  his  Majesty's  regiment,  and  that   I   am 

just  returned  from  India,  and  therefore  cannot  possibly 
be  connected  with  any  of  those  contraband  traders  you 
talk  of ;  that  my  Lieutenant-Colonel  is  now  at  Nottingham, 
the  Major,  with  the  ofificers  of  my  corps,  at  Kingston-upon- 
Thames.  I  offer  before  you  both  to  submit  to  any  degree 
of  ignominy,  if,  within  the  return  of  the  Kingston  and 
Nottingham  posts,  I  am  not  able  to  establish  these  points. 
Or  you  may  write  to  the  agent  for  the  regiment,  if  you 
please,   and ' 

'This  is  all  very  well,  sir,'  said  Glossin,  beginning  to 
fear  lest  the  firm  expostulation  of  Bertram  should  make 
some  impression  on  Sir  Robert,  who  would  almost  have 
died  of  shame  at  committing  such  a  solecism  as  sending 
a  captain  of  horse  to  jail — 'This  is  all  very  well,  sir;  but 
is  there  no  person  nearer  whom  you  could  refer  to?' 

'There  are  only  two  persons  in  this  country  who  know 
anything  of  me.'  replied  the  prisoner.  'One  is  a  plain  Lid- 
desdale  sheep-farmer,  called  Dinmont  of  Charlies-hope; 
but  he  knows  nothing  more  of  me  than  what  I  told  him, 
and  what  I  now  tell  you.' 

'Why,  this  is  well  enough.  Sir  Robert !'  said  Glossin. 
*I  suppose  he  would  bring  forward  this  thick-skulled  fellow 
to  give  his  oath  of  credulity,  Sir  Robert,  ha !  ha !  ha !' 

'And  what  is  your  other  witness,  friend?'  said  the  Baronet. 

'A  gentleman  whom  I  have  some  reluctance  to  mention, 
because  of  certain  private  reasons ;  but  under  whose  com- 
mand I  served  some  time  in  India,  and  who  is  too  much 
a  man  of  honour  to  refuse  his  testimony  to  my  character 
as  a  soldier  and  gentleman.' 

'And  who  IS  this  doughty  witness,  pray,  sir?'  said  Sir 
Robert, — 'some  half-pay  quarter-master  or  sergeant,  I  sup- 
pose?' 


350  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Colonel  Guy  Mannering,  late  of  the  regiment,  in 

A\hich,  as  I  told  you,  I  have  a  troop.' 

'Colonel  Guy  Mannering!'  thought  Glossin, — 'who  the 
devil   could  have  guessed  this?' 

"Colonel  Guy  Mannering !'  echoed  the  Baronet,  consider- 
ably shaken  in  his  opinion. — 'My  good  sir,' — apart  to  Glos- 
sin, 'the  young  man  with  a  dreadfully  plebeian  name,  and 
a  good  deal  of  modest  assurance,  has  nevertheless  some- 
thing of  the  tone,  and  manners,  and  feeling  of  a  gentle- 
man, of  one  at  least  who  has  lived  in  good  society ; — they 
do  give  commissions  very  loosely,  and  carelessly,  and  in- 
accurately, in  India ; — I  think  we  had  better  pause  till 
Colonel  Mannering  shall  return ;  he  is  now,  I  believe,  at 
Edinburgh.' 

'You  are  in  every  respect  the  best  judge,  Sir  Robert,' 
answered  Glossin,  'in  every  possible  respect.  I  would  only 
submit  to  you,  that  we  are  certainly  hardly  entitled  to 
dismiss  this  man  upon  an  assertion  w^hich  cannot  be  satisfied 
by  proof,  and  that  we  shall  incur  a  heavy  responsibility  by 
detaining  him  in  private  custody,  without  committing  him 
to  a  public  jail.  Undoubtedly,  however,  you  are  the  best 
judge.  Sir  Robert; — and  I  would  only  say,  for  my  own  part, 
that  I  very  lately  incurred  severe  censure  by  detaining 
a  person  in  a  place  which  I  thought  perfectly  secure,  and 
under  the  custody  of  the  proper  officers.  The  man  made 
his  escape,  and  I  have  no  doubt  my  own  character  for 
attention  and  circumspection  as  a  magistrate  has  in  some 
degree  suffered — I  only  hint  this — I  will  join  in  any  step 
you,  Sir  Robert,  think  most  advisable.'  But  Mr.  Glossin 
was  well  aware  that  such  a  hint  was  of  power  sufficient  to 
decide  the  motions  of  his  self-important,  but  not  self-rely- 
ing colleague.  So  that  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  summed  up 
the  business  in  the  following  speech,  which  proceeded  partly 
upon  the  supposition  of  the  prisoner  being  really  a  gentle- 
man, and  partly  upon  the  opposite  belief  that  he  was  a 
villain  and  an  assassin. 

'Sir,  Mr.  Vanbeest  Brown — I  would  call  you  Captain 
Brown  if  there  was  the  least  reason,  or  cause,  or  grounds 
to  suppose  that  you  are  a  captain,  or  had  a  troop  in  the 
very  respectable  corps  you  mention,  or  indeed  in  any  other 


GUY    MANNERING  351 

corps  in  his  Majesty's  service,  as  to  which  circumstance 
I  beg  to  be  understood  to  give  no  positive,  settled,  or 
unaherable  judgment,  declaration,  or  opinion.  I  say  there- 
fore, sir,  Mr.  Brown,  we  have  determined,  considering  the 
unpleasant  predicament  in  which  you  now  stand,  having 
been  robbed,  as  you  say,  an  assertion  as  to  which  I  suspend 
my  opinion,  and  being  possessed  of  much  and  valuable 
treasure,  and  of  a  brass-handled  cutlass  besides,  as  to  your 
obtaining  which  you  will  favour  us  with  no  explanation — 
I  say,  sir,  we  have  determined  and  resolved,  and  made 
up  our  minds,  to  commit  you  to  jail,  or  rather  to  assign 
you  an  apartment  therein,  in  order  that  you  may  be 
forthcoming  upon  Colonel  Mannering's  return  from  Edin- 
burgh.' 

'With  humble  submission.  Sir  Robert,'  said  Glossin,  'may 
I  inquire  if  it  is  your  purpose  to  send  this  young  gentle- 
man to  the  county  jail? — for  if  that  were  not  your  settled 
intention,  I  would  take  the  liberty  to  hint,  that  there  would 
be  less  hardship  in  sending  him  to  the  Bridewell  at  Portan- 
ferry,  where  he  can  be  secured  without  public  exposure, — 
a  circumstance  which,  on  the  mere  chance  of  his  story 
being  really  true,  is  much  to  be  avoided.' 

"Why,  there  is  a  guard  of  soldiers  at  Portanferry,  to 
be  sure,  for  protection  of  the  goods  in  the  Custom-house; 
and  upon  the  whole,  considering  everything,  and  that  the 
place  is  comfortable  for  such  a  place — I  say,  all  things 
considered,  we  will  commit  this  person,  I  would  rather  say 
authorize  him  to  be  detained,  in  the  workhouse  at  Portan- 
ferry.' 

The  warrant  was  made  out  accordingly,  and  Bertram  was 
informed  he  was  next  morning  to  be  removed  to  his  place 
of  confinement,  as  Sir  Robert  had  determined  he  should 
not  be  taken  there  under  cloud  of  night,  for  fear  of  rescue. 
He  was,  during  the  interval,  to  be  detained  at  Hazlewood 
House. 

'It  cannot  be  so  hard  as  my  imprisonment  by  the  Looties 
in  India,'  he  thought;  "nor  can  it  last  so  long.  But  the 
deuce  take  the  old  formal  dunderhead,  and  his  more  slv 
associate,  who  speaks  always  under  his  breath, — they  cannot 
understand  a  plain  man's  story  when  it  is  told  them.' 


353  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT 

In  the  meanwhile  Glossin  took  leave  of  the  Baronet,  with 
a  thousand  respectful  bows  and  cringing  apologies  for  not 
accepting  his  invitation  to  dinner,  and  venturing  to  hope 
he  might  be  pardoned  in  paying  his  respects  to  him,  Lady 
Hazlewood,  and  young  Mr.  Hazlewood,  on  some  future 
occasion. 

'Certainly,  sir,'  said  the  Baronet,  very  graciously.  'I  hope 
our  family  was  never  at  any  time  deficient  in  civility  to 
our  neighbours;  and  when  I  ride  that  way,  good  Mr.  Glos- 
sin, I  will  convince  you  of  this  by  calling  at  your  house 
as  familiarly  as  is  consistent — that  is,  as  can  be  hoped  or 
expected.' 

'And  now,'  said  Glossin  to  himself,  'to  find  Dirk  Hatter- 
aick  and  his  people — to  get  the  guard  sent  off  from  the 
Custom-house — and  then  for  the  grand  cast  of  the  dice. 
Everything  must  depend  upon  speed.  How  lucky  that 
Mannering  has  betaken  himself  to  Edinburgh !  His  knowl- 
edge of  this  young  fellow  is  a  most  perilous  addition  to 
my  dangers,' — here  he  suffered  his  horse  to  slacken  his 
pace.  'What  if  I  should  try  to  compound  with  the  heir? 
It's  likely  he  might  be  brought  up  to  pay  a  round  sum  for 
restitution,  and  I  could  give  up  Hatteraick. — But  no,  no, 
no!  there  were  too  many  eyes  on  me, — Hatteraick  himself, 
and  the  gipsy  sailor,  and  that  old  hag. — No,  no!  I  must 
stick  to  my  original  plan.'  And  with  that  he  struck  his 
spurs  against  his  horse's  flanks,  and  rode  forward  at  a  hard 
trot  to  put  his  machines  in  motion. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A  prison  is  a  house  of  care, 

A  place  where  none  can  thrive, 

A  touchstone  true  to  try  a  friend, 

A  grave  for  one  alive. 

Sometimes  a  place  of  right, 

Sometimes  a  place  of  wrong. 

Sometimes  a  place  of  rogues  and  thieves, 

And  honest  men  among. 

Inscription  on  Edinburgh  Tolbooth. 

EARLY  on  the  following  morning,  the  carriage  which 
had  brought  Bertram  to  Hazlewood-House,  was,  with 
his  two  silent  and  surly  attendants,  appointed  to  con- 
vey him  to  his  place  of  confinement  at  Portanferry.  This 
building  adjoined  to  the  Custom-house  established  at  that 
little  seaport,  and  both  were  situated  so  close  to  the  sea- 
beach,  that  it  was  necessary  to  defend  the  back  part  with  a 
large  and  strong  rampart  or  bulwark  of  huge  stones,  dis- 
posed in  a  slope  towards  the  surf,  which  often  reached  and 
broke  upon  them.  The  front  was  surrounded  by  a  high 
wall,  enclosing  a  small  courtyard,  within  which  the  miserable 
inmates  of  the  mansion  were  occasionally  permitted  to  take 
exercise  and  air.  The  prison  was  used  as  a  House  of 
Correction,  and  sometimes  as  a  chapel  of  ease  to  the  county 
jail,  which  was  old,  and  far  from  being  conveniently  situ- 
ated with  reference  to  the  Kippletringan  district  of  the 
county.  Mac-Guffog,  the  officer  by  whom  Bertram  had 
at  first  been  apprehended,  and  who  was  now  in  attendance 
upon  him,  was  keeper  of  this  palace  of  little-ease.  He 
caused  the  carriage  to  be  drawn  close  up  to  the  outer  gate, 
and  got  out  himself  to  summon  the  warders.  The  noise 
of  his  rap  alarmed  some  twenty  or  thirty  ragged  boys, 
who  left  off  sailing  their  mimic  sloops  and  frigates  in  the 
little  pools  of  salt  water  left  by  the  receding  tide,  and  hastily 
crowded  rovmd  the  vehicle  to  sec  what  luckless  being  was 
to  be  delivered  to  the  prison-house  out  of  'Glossin's  braw 

353 


354  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

new  carriage.'  The  door  of  the  courtyard,  after  the  heavy 
clanking  of  many  chains  and  bars,  was  opened  by  Mrs. 
Mac-Guffog — an  awful  spectacle,  being  a  woman  for  strength 
and  resolution  capable  of  maintaining  order  among  her 
riotous  inmates,  and  of  administering  the  discipline  of  the 
house,  as  it  was  called,  during  the  absence  of  her  husband, 
or  when  he  chanced  to  have  taken  an  over-dose  of  the 
creature.  The  growling  voice  of  this  Amazon,  which  rivalled 
in  harshness  the  crashing  music  of  her  own  bolts  and  bars, 
soon  dispersed  in  every  direction  the  little  varlets  who  had 
thronged  around  her  threshold,  and  she  next  addressed  her 
amiable  helpmate : — 

'Be  sharp,  man,  and  get  out  the  swell,  canst  thou  not?' 

'Hold  your  tongue  and  be  d — d,  you  !'  answered  her 

loving  husband,  with  two  additional  epithets  of  great  energy, 
but  which  we  beg  to  be  excused  from  repeating.  Then 
addressing  Bertram, — 'Come,  will  you  get  out,  my  handy  lad, 
or  must  we  lend  you  a  lift?' 

Bertram  came  out  of  the  carriage,  and,  collared  by  the 
constable  as  he  put  his  foot  on  the  ground,  was  dragged, 
though  he  offered  no  resistance,  across  the  threshold,  amid 
the  continued  shouts  of  the  little  sans  culottes,  who  looked 
on  at  such  distance  as  their  fear  of  Mrs.  Mac-Guffog 
permitted.  The  instant  his  foot  had  crossed  the  fatal 
porch,  the  portress  again  dropped  her  chains,  drew  her 
bolts,  and  turning  with  both  hands  an  immense  key,  took 
it  from  the  lock,  and  thrust  it  into  a  huge  side-pocket  of 
red  cloth. 

Bertram  was  now  in  the  small  court  already  mentioned. 
Two  or  three  prisoners  were  sauntering  along  the  pavement, 
and  deriving  as  it  were  a  feeling  of  refreshment  from  the 
momentary  glimpse  with  which  the  opening  door  had  ex- 
tended their  prospect  to  the  other  side  of  a  dirty  street.  Nor 
can  this  be  thought  surprising,  when  it  is  considered,  that, 
unless  on  such  occasions,  their  view  was  confined  to  the 
grated  front  of  their  prison,  the  high  and  sable  walls  of  the 
courtyard,  the  heaven  above  them,  and  the  pavement  beneath 
their  feet ;  a  sameness  of  landscape,  which,  to  use  the  poet's 
expression,  'lay  like  a  load  on  the  wearied  eye,'  and  had 
fostered  in  some  a  callous  and  dull  misanthropy,  in  others 


i 


GUY    MANNERTXG  355 

that  sickness  of  the  heart  which  induces  him  who  is  immured 
already  in  a  Hving  grave,  to  wish  for  a  sepulchre  yet  more 
calm  and  sequestered. 

Mac-Guffog,  when  they  entered  the  courtyard,  suffered 
Bertram  to  pause  for  a  minute,  and  look  upon  his  com- 
panions in  affliction.  When  he  had  cast  his  eye  around, 
on  faces  on  which  guilt,  and  despondence,  and  low  excess, 
had  fixed  their  stigma — upon  the  spendthrift,  and  the  swind- 
ler, and  the  thief,  the  bankrupt  debtor,  the  'moping  idiot, 
and  the  madman  gay,'  whom  a  paltry  spirit  of  economy 
congregated  to  share  this  dismal  habitation,  he  felt  his  heart 
recoil  with  inexpressible  loathing  from  enduring  the  con- 
tamination of  their  society  even  for  a  moment. 

'I  hope,  sir,'  he  said  to  the  keeper,  'you  intend  to  assign 
me  a  place  of  confinement  apart?' 

'And  what  should  I  be  the  better  of  that?' 

'Why,  sir,  I  can  but  be  detained  here  a  day  or  two,  and 
it  would  be  very  disagreeable  to  me  to  mix  in  the  sort  of 
company  this  place  affords.' 

'And  what  do  I  care  for  that?' 

'Why,  then,  sir,  to  speak  to  your  feelings,'  said  Bertram. 
'I  should  be  willing  to  make  you  a  handsome  compliment 
for  this  indulgence.' 

'Aye.  but  when,  Captain?  when  and  how?  that's  the 
question,  or  rather  the  twa  questions,'  said  the  jailor. 

'When  I  am  delivered,  and  get  my  remittances  from 
England,'  answered  the  prisoner. 

Mac-Guft'og  shook  his  head  incredulously. 

'Why,  friend,  you  do  not  pretend  to  believe  that  I  am 
really  a  malefactor?'  said  Bertram. 

'Why,  I  no  ken,'  said  the  fellow:  'but  if  you  arc  on  the 
account,  ye're  nae  sharp  ane,  that's  the  daylight  o't.' 

'And  why  do  you  say  I  am  no  sharp  one?' 

'Why,  wha  but  a  crackbrained  greenhorn  wad  hae  let 
them  keep  up  the  siller  that  ye  left  at  the  "Gordon  Arms"  ?' 
said  the  constable.  'Deil  fetch  me,  but  I  wad  have  had  it 
out  o'  their  wames !  Ye  had  nae  right  to  be  strippit  o' 
your  money  and  sent  to  jail  without  a  mark  to  pay  your 
fees;  they  might  have  keepit  the  rest  o'  the  articles  for 
evidence.     But  why,  for  a  blind  bottle-head,  did  not  ye  ask 


35G  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  guineas?  and  I  kept  winking  and  nodding  a'  the  time, 
and  the  donnert  deevil  wad  never  ance  look  my  way !' 

'Well,  sir/  replied  Bertram,  'if  I  have  a  title  to  have  that 
property  delivered  up  to  me,  I  shall  apply  for  it ;  and  there 
is  a  good  deal  more  than  enough  to  pay  any  demand  you 
can  set  up.' 

'I  dinna  ken  a  bit  about  that/  said  Mac-Guffog;  'ye  may 
be  here  lang  eneugh.  And  then  the  gieing  credit  maun  be 
considered  in  the  fees.  But,  however,  as  ye  do  seem  to  be 
a  chap  by  common,  though  my  wife  says  I  lose  by  my  good 
nature,  if  ye  gie  me  an  order  for  my  fees  upon  that  money — 
I  dare  say  Glossin  will  make  it  forthcoming — I  ken  some- 
thing about  an  escape  from  Ellangowan — aye,  aye,  he'll  be 
glad  to  carry  me  through,  and  be  neighbourlike/ 

'Well,  sir,'  replied  Bertram,  'if  I  am  not  furnished  in  a 
day  or  two  otherwise,  you  shall  have  such  an  order.' 

'Weel,  weel,  then  ye  shall  be  put  up  like  a  prince,'  said 
Mac-Guffog,  'But  mark  ye  me,  friend,  that  we  may  have 
nae  colly-shangie  afterhend,  these  are  the  feea  that  .1 
always  charge  a  swell  that  must  have  his  lib-ken  to  himsell 
— Thirty  shillings  a  week  for  lodgings,  and  a  guinea  for 
garnish ;  half  a  guinea  a  week  for  a  single  bed,  and  I  dinna 
get  the  whole  of  it,  for  I  must  gie  half  a  crown  out  of  it 
to  Donald  Laider  that  's  in  for  sheep-stealing,  that  should 
sleep  with  you  by  rule,  and  he'll  expect  clean  strae,  and 
maybe  some  whisky  beside.     So  I  make  little  upon  that/ 

'Well,  sir,  go  on/ 

'Then  for  meat  and  liquor,  ye  may  have  the  best,  and 
I  never  charge  abune  twenty  per  cent  ower  tavern  price 
for  pleasing  a  gentleman  that  way — and  that  's  little  enough 
for  sending  in  and  sending  out,  and  wearing  the  lassie's 
shoon  out.  And  then  if  ye're  dowie,  I  will  sit  wi'  you  a 
gliff  in  the  evening  mysell,  man,  and  help  ye  out  wi'  your 
bottle; — I  have  drank  mony  a  glass  wi'  Glossin,  man,  that 
did  you  up,  though  he's  a  justice  now.  And  then  I'se  warrant 
ye '11  be  for  fire  thir  cauld  nights,  or  if  ye  want  candle,  that's 
an  expensive  article,  for  it's  against  the  rules.  And  now 
I've  tell'd  ye  the  head  articles  of  the  charge,  and  I  dinna 
think  there's  muckle  mair,  though  there  will  ay  be  some  odd 
expenses  ower  and  abune.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  357 

'Well,  sir,  I  must  trust  to  your  conscience,  if  ever  you 
happened  to  hear  of  such  a  thing — I  cannot  help  myself.' 

'Na,  na,  sir,'  answered  the  cautious  jailor,  'I'll  no  permit 
you  to  be  saying  that — I'm  forcing  naething  upon  ye ; — an  ye 
dinna  like  the  price,  ye  needna  take  the  article — I  force  no 
man ;  I  was  only  explaining  what  civility  was :  but  if  ye  like 
to  take  the  common  run  of  the  house,  it's  a'  ane  to  me — 
I'll  be  saved  trouble,  that's  a'.' 

'Nay,  my  friend.  I  have,  as  I  suppose  you  may  easily 
guess,  no  inclination  to  dispute  your  terms  upon  such  a 
penalty,'  answered  Bertram.  'Come,  show  me  where  I  am 
to  be,  for  I  would  fain  be  alone  for  a  little  while.' 

'Aye,  aye,  come  along  then.  Captain,'  said  the  fellow, 
with  a  contortion  of  visage  which  he  intended  to  be  a  smile. 
'And  I'll  tell  you  now, — to  show  you  that  I  have  a  con- 
science, as  ye  ca't,  d — n  mc  if  I  charge  ye  abune  sixpence 
a  day  for  the  freedom  o'  the  court,  and  ye  may  walk  in't 
very  near  three  hours  a  day.  and  play  at  pitch-and-toss,  and 
hand  ba',  and  what  not.' 

With  this  gracious  promise,  he  ushered  Bertram  into  the 
house,  and  showed  him  up  a  steep  and  narrow  stone  stair- 
case, at  the  top  of  which  was  a  strong  door,  clenched  with 
iron  and  studded  with  nails.  Beyond  this  door  was  a  narrow 
passage  or  gallery,  having  three  cells  on  each  side,  wretched 
vaults,  with  iron  bed-frames  and  straw  mattresses.  But 
at  the  further  end  was  a  small  apartment,  of  rather  a  more 
decent  appearance, — that  is,  having  less  the  air  of  a  place 
of  confinement,  since  unless  for  the  large  lock  and  chain 
upon  the  door,  and  the  crossed  and  ponderous  stanchions 
upon  the  window,  it  rather  resembled  the  'worst  inn's  worst 
room.'  It  was  designed  as  a  sort  of  infirmary  for  prisoners 
whose  state  of  health  required  some  indulgence ; — and,  in 
fact,  Donald  Laider,  Bertram's  destined  chum,  had  been 
just  dragged  out  of  one  of  the  two  beds  which  it  contained, 
to  try  whether  clean  straw  and  whisky  might  not  have  a 
better  chance  to  cure  his  intermitting  fever.  This  process 
of  ejection  had  been  carried  into  force  by  Mrs.  Mac-Gufifog 
while  her  husband  parleyed  with  Bertram  in  the  courtyard, 
that  good  lady  having  a  distinct  presentiment  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  treaty  must  necessarily  terminate.    Apparently 


I 


358  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  expulsion  had  not  taken  place  without  some  application 
of  the  strong  hand,  for  one  of  the  bedposts  of  a  sort  of 
tent-bed  was  broken  down,  so  that  the  tester  and  curtains 
hung  forward  into  the  middle  of  the  narrow  chamber,  like 
the  banner  of  a  chieftain,  half  sinking  amid  the  confusion 
of  a  combat. 

'Never  mind  that  being  out  o'  sorts.  Captain,'  said  Mrs. 
Mac-Guffog.  who  now  followed  them  into  the  room ;  then 
turning  her  back  to  the  prisoner,  with  as  much  delicacy 
as  the  action  admitted,  she  whipped  from  her  knee  her  ferret 
garter,  and  applied  it  to  splicing  and  fastening  the  broken 
bedpost — then  used  more  pins  than  her  apparel  could  well 
spare  to  fasten  up  the  bed-curtains  in  festoons — then  shook 
the  bed-clothes  into  something  like  form — then  flung  over  all 
a  tattered  patchwork  quilt,  and  pronounced  that  things  were 
now  'something  purpose-like.'  'And  there  "s  your  bed.  Cap- 
tain,' pointing  to  a  massy  four-posted  hulk,  which,  owing  to 
the  inequality  of  the  floor,  that  had  sunk  considerably  (the 
house,  though  new,  having  been  built  by  contract),  stood 
on  three  legs,  and  held  the  fourth  aloft  as  if  pawing  the  air, 
and  in  the  attitude  of  advancing  like  an  elephant  passant 
upon  the  panel  of  a  coach — 'There  's  your  bed  and  the 
blankets;  but  if  ye  want  sheets,  or  bowster,  or  pillow,  or 
ony  sort  o'  napery  for  the  table,  or  for  your  hands,  ye'll 
hae  to  speak  to  me  about  it,  for  that's  out  o'  the  gudeman's 
line'  (Mac-Guffog  had  by  this  time  left  the  room,  to  avoid, 
probably,  any  appeal  which  might  be  made  to  him  upon  this 
new  exaction),  'and  he  never  engages  for  onything  like  that.' 
'In  God's  name,'  said  Bertram,  'let  me  have  what  is  decent, 
and  make  any  charge  you  please.' 

'Aweel,  aweel,  that's  sune  settled;  we'll  no  excise  you 
neither,  though  we  live  sae  near  the  Custom-house.  And 
I  maun  see  to  get  you  some  fire  and  some  dinner  too, 
I'se  warrant ;  but  your  dinner  will  be  but  a  puir  ane  the 
day,  no  expecting  company  that  would  be  nice  and  fashious.' 
— So  saying,  and  in  all  haste,  ]\Irs.  Mac-Guffog  fetched  a 
scuttle  of  live  coals,  and  having  replenished  'the  rusty  grate, 
unconscious  of  a  fire'  for  months  before,  she  proceeded 
with  unwashed  hands  to  arrange  the  stipulated  bed-linen, 
(alas,  how  different  from  Ailie  Dinmont's!)  and,  muttering 


GUY    MANNERIXG  359 

10  herself  as  she  discharged  her  task,  seemed,  in  inveterate 
spleen  of  temper,  to  grudge  even  those  accommodations  for 
which  she  was  to  receive  payment.  At  length,  however,  she 
departed,  grumbling  between  her  teeth,  that  she  wad  rather 
lock  up  a  haill  ward  than  be  fiking  about  thae  niff-naffy 
gentles  that  gae  sae  muckle  fash  wi'  their  fancies.' 

When  she  was  gone,  Bertram  found  himself  reduced  to  the 
alternative  of  pacing  his  little  apartment  for  exercise,  or 
gazing  out  upon  the  sea  in  such  proportions  as  could  be  seen 
from  the  narrow  panes  of  his  window,  obscured  by  dirt  and 
by  close  iron  bars,  or  reading  over  the  records  of  brutal  wit 
and  blackguardism  which  despair  had  scrawled  upon  the 
half-whitened  walls.  The  sounds  were  as  uncomfortable 
as  the  objects  of  sight;  the  sullen  dash  of  the  tide,  which 
was  now  retreating,  and  the  occasional  opening  and  shut- 
ting of  a  door,  with  all  its  accompaniments  of  jarring  bolts 
and  creaking  hinges,  mingling  occasionally  with  the  dull 
monotony  of  the  retiring  ocean.  Sometimes,  too,  he  could 
hear  the  hoarse  growl  of  the  keeper,  or  the  shriller  strain 
of  his  helpmate,  almost  always  in  the  tone  of  discontent, 
anger,  or  insolence.  At  other  times  the  large  mastiff, 
chained  in  the  courtyard,  answered  with  furious  bark  the 
insults  of  the  idle  loiterers  who  made  a  sport  of  incensing 
him. 

At  length  the  tedium  of  this  weary  space  was  broken  by 
the  entrance  of  a  dirty-looking  serving  wench,  who  made 
some  preparations  for  dinner  by  laying  a  half-dirty  cloth 
upon  a  whole-dirty  deal  table.  A  knife  and  fork,  which  had 
not  been  worn  out  by  overcleaning,  flanked  a  cracked  delf 
plate ;  a  nearly  empty  mustard-pot,  placed  on  one  side  of  the 
table,  balanced  a  saltcellar,  containing  an  article  of  a  grey- 
ish, or  rather  a  blackish  mixture,  upon  the  other,  both  of 
stone-ware,  and  bearing  too  obvious  marks  of  recent  service. 
Shortly  after,  the  same  Hebe  brought  up  a  plate  of  beef- 
collops,  done  in  the  frying-pan.  with  a  huge  allowance  of 
grease  floating  in  an  ocean  of  lukewarm  water;  and  having 
added  a  coarse  loaf  to  these  savoury  viands,  she  requested 
to  know  what  liquors  the  gentleman  chose  to  order.  The  ap- 
pearance of  this  fare  was  not  very  inviting;  but  Bertram  en- 
deavoured to  mend  his  commons  by  ordering  wine,  which  he 


360  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

found  tolerably  good,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  some  in- 
different cheese,  made  his  dinner  chiefly  off  the  brown  loaf. 
When  his  meal  was  over,  the  girl  presented  her  master's  com- 
pliments, and,  if  agreeable  to  the  gentleman,  he  would  help 
him  to  spend  the  evening.  Bertram  desired  to  be  excused, 
and  begged,  instead  of  this  gracious  society,  that  he  might 
be  furnished  with  paper,  pen,  ink,  and  candles.  The  light 
appeared  in  the  shape  of  one  long  broken  tallow-candle, 
inclining  over  a  tin  candlestick  coated  with  grease ;  as  for  the 
writing  materials,  the  prisoner  was  informed  that  he  might 
have  them  the  next  day  if  he  chose  to  send  out  to  buy 
them.  Bertram  next  desired  the  maid  to  procure  him  a 
book,  and  enforced  his  request  with  a  shilling;  in  conse- 
quence of  which,  after  long  absence,  she  reappeared  with 
two  odd  volumes  of  the  Newgate  Calendar,  which  she  had 
borrowed  from  Sam  Silverquill,  an  idle  apprentice,  who  was 
imprisoned  under  a  charge  of  forgery.  Having  laid  the 
books  on  the  table,  she  retired,  and  left  Bertram  to  studies 
which  were  not  ill  adapted  to  his  present  melancholy  situation. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

But  if  thou  shouldst  be  dragged  in  scorn 

To   yonder   ignominious   tree, 
Thou  shalt  not  want  one  faithful  friend 

To  share  the  cruel  fate's  decree. 

Shenstone. 

PLUNGED  in  the  gloomy  reflections  which  were 
naturally  excited  by  his  dismal  reading,  and  dis- 
consolate situation,  Bertram,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  felt  himself  affected  with  a  disposition  to  low  spirits. 
'I  have  been  in  worse  situations  than  this  too,'  he  said ; — 
'more  dangerous,  for  here  is  no  danger — more  dismal  in 
prospect,  for  my  present  confinement  must  necessarily  be 
short — more  intolerable  for  the  time,  for  here  at  least  I 
have  fire,  food,  and  shelter.  Yet  with  reading  these  bloody 
tales  of  crime  and  misery,  in  a  place  so  corresponding  to 
the  ideas  which  they  excite,  and  in  listening  to  these  sad 
sounds,  I  feel  a  stronger  disposition  to  melancholy  than  in 
my  life  I  ever  experienced.  But  I  will  not  give  way  to  it — 
Begone,  thou  record  of  guilt  and  infamy !'  he  said,  flinging 
the  book  upon  the  spare  bed;  'a.  Scottish  jail  shall  not  break, 
on  the  very  first  day,  the  spirits  which  have  resisted  climate, 
and  want,  and  penury,  and  disease,  and  imprisonment,  in 
a  foreign  land.  I  have  fought  many  a  hard  battle  with  dame 
Fortune,  and  she  shall  not  beat  me  now  if  I  can  help  it.' 

Then  bending  his  mind  to  a  strong  effort,  he  endeavoured 
to  view  his  situation  in  the  most  favourable  light.  Delaserre 
must  soon  be  in  Scotland;  the  certificates  from  his  com- 
manding-officer must  soon  arrive ;  nay,  if  Mannering  were 
first  applied  to,  who  could  say  but  the  effect  might  be  a 
reconciliation  between  them?  He  had  often  observed,  and 
now  remembered,  that  when  his  former  colonel  took  the 
part  of  any  one,  it  was  never  by  halves,  and  that  he  seemed 
to  love  those  persons  most  who  had  lain  under  obligation 
to  him.  In  the  present  case,  a  favour,  which  could  be  asked 
with  honour  and  granted  with  readiness,  might  be  the  means 

361 


362  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

of  reconciling  them  to  each  other.  From  this  his  feelings 
naturally  turned  towards  Julia ;  and,  without  very  nicely 
measuring  the  distance  between  a  soldier  of  fortune,  who 
expected  that  her  father's  attestation  would  deliver  him  from 
confinement,  and  the  heiress  of  that  father's  wealth  and 
expectations,  he  was  building  the  gayest  castle  in  the  clouds, 
and  varnishing  it  with  all  the  tints  of  a  summer-evening 
sky,  when  his  labour  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  knocking  at 
the  outer-gate,  answered  by  the  barking  of  the  gaunt  half- 
starved  mastiff,  which  was  quartered  in  the  courtyard  as  an 
addition  to  the  garrison.  After  much  scrupulous  precaution 
the  gate  was  opened,  and  some  person  admitted.  The  house- 
door  was  next  unbarred,  unlocked,  and  unchained,  a  dog's 
feet  pattered  upstairs  in  great  haste,  and  the  animal  was 
heard  scratching  and  whining  at  the  door  of  the  room. 
Next  a  heavy  step  was  heard  lumbering  up,  and  Mac- 
Guffog's  voice  in  the  character  of  pilot — 'This  way,  this 
way ;  take  care  of  the  step ; — that 's  the  room.' — Bertram's 
door  was  then  unbolted,  and,  to  his  great  surprise  and  joy, 
his  terrier  Wasp  rushed  into  the  apartment,  and  almost 
devoured  him  with  caresses,  followed  by  the  massy  form 
of  his  friend  from  Charlies-hope. 

'Eh  whow !  Eh  whow !'  ejaculated  the  honest  farmer, 
as  he  looked  round  upon  his  friend's  miserable  apartment 
and  wretched  accommodation — 'What's  this  o't!'  what's 
this  o't !' 

'Just  a  trick  of  fortune,  my  good  friend,'  said  Bertram, 
rising  and  shaking  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  'that 's  all.' 

'But  what  will  be  done  about  it? — or  what  can  be  done 
about  it?'  said  honest  Dandie:  'is't  for  debt,  or  what 
is't  for?' 

'Why,  it  is  not  for  debt,'  answered  Bertram;  'and  if  you 
have  time  to  sit  down,  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  of  the  matter 
myself.' 

'If  I  hae  time?'  said  Dandie,  with  an  accent  on  the  word 
that  sounded  like  a  howl  of  derision — 'Ou,  what  the  deevil 
am  I  come  here  for.  man,  but  just  ance  errand  to  see  about 
it?  But  ye'll  no  be  the  waur  o'  something  to  eat.  I  trow; — 
it's  getting  late  at  e'en— I  tell'd  the  folk  at  the  Change, 
where  I  put  up  Dumple,  to  send  ower  my  supper  here,  and 


GUY    MAXXERING  363 

the  chield  Mac-Guffog  is  agreeable  to  let  it  in — I  hae  settled 
a'  that. — And  now  let 's  hear  your  story — Whisht,  Wasp, 
man !  wow  but  he  's  glad  to  see  you,  poor  thing !' 

Bertram's  story,  being  confined  to  the  accident  of  Hazle- 
wood,  and  the  confusion  made  between  his  own  identity 
and  that  of  one  of  the  smugglers  who  had  been  active 
in  the  assault  of  Woodbourne,  and  chanced  to  bear  the  same 
name,  was  soon  told.  Dinmont  listened  very  attentively. 
'Aweel,'  he  said,  "this  suld  be  nae  sic  dooms-desperate  busi- 
ness surely — the  lad  's  doing  weel  again  that  was  hurt,  and 
what  signifies  twa  or  three  lead  draps  in  his  shouther?  if 
ye  had  putten  out  his  ee,  it  would  hae  been  another  case. 
But  eh,  as  I  wuss  auld  Sherra  Pleydell  was  to  the  fore 
here ! — Od,  he  was  the  man  for  sorting  them,  and  the 
queerest  rough-spoken  deevil  too  that  ever  ye  heard !' 

'But  now  tell  me,  my  excellent  friend,  how  did  you  find 
out  I  was  here?' 

'Od,  lad,  queerly  eneugh,'  said  Dandie;  'but  I'll  tell  ye 
that  after  we  are  done  wi'  our  supper,  for  it  will  maybe 
no  be  sae  weel  to  speak  about  it  while  that  lang-lugged 
limmer  o'  a  lass  is  gaun  flisking  in  and  out  o'  the  room. 

Bertram's  curiosity  was  in  some  degree  put  to  rest  by 
the  appearance  of  the  supper  which  his  friend  had  ordered, 
which,  although  homely  enough,  had  the  appetizing  cleanli- 
ness in  which  Mrs.  Mac-Guffog's  cookery  was  so  eminently 
deficient.  Dinmont  also,  premising  he  had  ridden  the  whole 
day  since  breakfast-time,  without  tasting  anything  'to  speak 
of,'  which  qualifying  phrase  related  to  about  three  pounds 
of  cold  roast  mutton  which  he  had  discussed  at  his  midday 
stage, — Dinmont,  I  say,  fell  stoutly  upon  the  good  cheer, 
and,  like  one  of  Homer's  heroes,  said  little,  either  good  or 
bad,  till  the  rage  of  thirst  and  hunger  was  appeased.  At 
length,  after  a  draught  of  home-brewed  ale.  he  began  by 
observing,  'Aweel,  aweel,  that  hen,'  looking  upon  the 
lamentable  relics  of  what  had  been  once  a  large  fowl,  'wasna 
a  bad  ane  to  be  bred  at  a  town  end.  though  it 's  no  like  our 
barndoor  chuckies  at  Charlies-hope — and  I  am  glad  to  see 
that  this  vexing  job  hasna  taen  awa  your  appetite.  Captain.* 

'Why,  really,  my  dinner  was  not  so  excellent,  Air.  Din- 
mont, as  to  spoil  my  supper.' 

D-13 


364  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'I  daur  say  no — I  daur  say  no,'  said  Dandie. — 'But  now, 
hinny,  that  ye  hae  brought  us  the  brandy,  and  the  mug  wi' 
the  het  water,  and  the  sugar,  and  a'  right,  ye  may  steek 
the  door,  ye  see,  for  we  wad  hae  some  o'  our  ain  cracks.' 
The  damsel  accordingly  retired,  and  shut  the  door  of  the 
apartment,  to  which  she  added  the  precaution  of  drawing 
a  large  bolt  on  the  outside. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Dandie  reconnoitred  the 
premises,  listened  at  the  key-hole  as  if  he  had  been  listening 
for  the  blowing  of  an  otter, — and  having  satisfied  himself 
that  there  were  no  eavesdroppers,  returned  to  the  table; 
and  making  himself  what  he  called  a  gey  stiff  cheerer, 
poked  the  fire,  and  began  his  story  in  an  undertone  of 
gravity  and  importance  not  very  usual  with  him. 

'Ye  see,  Captain,  I  had  been  in  Edinbro'  for  twa  or 
three  days,  looking  after  the  burial  of  a  friend  that  we  hae 
lost,  and  maybe  I  suld  hae  had  something  for  my  ride ; 
but  there  's  disappointments  in  a'  things,  and  wha  can  help 
the  like  o'  that?  And  I  had  a  wee  bit  law  business  besides, 
but  that 's  neither  here  nor  there.  In  short,  I  had  got  my 
matters  settled,  and  hame  I  cam;  and  the  morn  awa  to  the 
muirs  to  see  what  the  herds  had  been  about,  and  I  thought 
I  might  as  vveel  gie  a  look  to  the  Tout-hope  head,  where  Jock 
o'  Dawston  and  me  has  the  outcast  about  a  march.  Weel, 
just  as  I  was  coming  upon  the  bit,  I  saw  a  man  afore  me 
that  I  kenn'd  was  nane  o'  our  herds,  and  it 's  a  wild  bit  to 
meet  ony  other  body,  so  when  I  cam  up  to  him,  it  was  Tod 
Gabriel  the  fox-hunter.  So  I  says  to  him,  rather  surprised 
like,  "What  are  ye  doing  up  amang  the  craws  here,  without 
your  hounds,  man?  are  ye  seeking  the  fox  without  the  dogs?" 
So  he  said,  "Na,  gudeman,  but  I  wanted  to  see  yoursell." 

'  "Aye,"  said  I,  "and  ye'll  be  wanting  eilding  now,  or 
something  to  pit  ower  the  winter?" 

'  "Na,  na,"  quo'  he,  "it's  no  that  I'm  seeking;  but  ye 
tak  an  unco  concern  in  that  Captain  Brown  that  was  stay- 
ing wi'  you,  d'ye  no?" 

'  "Troth  do  I,  Gabriel,'  says  I ;  "and  what  about  him, 
lad?'" 

'Says  he,  "There's  mair  tak  an  interest  in  him  than  you, 
and  some  that  I  am  bound  to  obey;  and  it's  no  just  on  my 


GUY    MANNER  I XG  365 

ain  win  that  I'm  here  to  tell  you  something  about  him  that 
will  no  please  you." 

*  "Faith,  naething  w  ill  please  me,"  quo'  I,  "that 's  no 
pleasing  to  him." 

'  "And  then,"  quo'  he.  "ye'll  be  ill-sorted  to  hear  that  he's 
like  to  be  in  the  prison  at  Portanferry  if  he  disna  tak  a'  the 
better  care  o'  himself,  for  there's  been  warrants  out  to  tak 
him  as  soon  as  he  comes  ower  the  water  frae  AUonby. 
And  now,  gudeman,  an  ever  ye  wish  him  weel,  ye  maun  ride 
down  to  Portanferry  and  let  nae  grass  grow^  at  the  nag's 
heels;  and  if  ye  find  him  in  confinement,  ye  maun  stay  be- 
side him  night  and  day,  for  a  day  or  twa,  for  he'll  want 
friends  that  hae  baith  heart  and  hand;  and  if  ye  neglect 
this,  ye'll  never  rue  but  ance,  for  it  will  be  for  a'  your  life." 

'  "But,  safe  us,  man,"  quo'  I,  "how  did  ye  learn  a'  this? — 
it 's  an  unco  way  between  this  and  Portanferry." 

*  "Never  ye  mind  that,"  quo'  he ;  "them  that  brought  us 
the  news  rade  night  and  day,  and  ye  maun  be  aff  instantly 
if  ye  wad  do  ony  gude — and  sae  I  have  naething  mair  to 
tell  ye."  Sae  he  sat  himsell  doun  and  hirselled  doun  into 
the  glen,  where  it  wad  hae  been  ill  following  him  wi'  the 
beast,  and  I  cam  back  to  Charlies-hope  to  tell  the  gudewife, 
for  I  was  uncertain  what  to  do.  It  wad  look  unco-like, 
I  thought,  just  to  be  sent  out  on  a  hunt-the-gowk  errand 
wi'  a  land-louper  like  that.  But,  Lord !  as  the  gudewife 
set  up  her  throat  about  it,  and  said  what  a  shame  it  wad 
be  if  ye  was  to  come  to  ony  wrang,  an  I  could  help  ye; — 
and  then  in  cam  your  letter  that  confirmed  it.  So  I  took 
to  the  kist,  and  out  wi'  the  pickle  notes  in  case  they  should 
be  needed,  and  a'  the  bairns  ran  to  saddle  Dumple.  By 
great  luck  I  had  taen  the  other  beast  to  Edinbro,'  sae 
Dumple  was  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  Sae  aff  I  set,  and  Wasp 
wi'  me,  for  ye  wad  really  hae  thought  he  kenn'd  where 
I  was  gaun,  puir  beast ;  and  here  1  am  after  a  trot  o'  sixty 
mile,  or  near  by.  But  Wasp  rade  thirty  o'  them  afore  me 
on  the  saddle,  and  the  puir  doggie  balanced  itsell  as  ane  of 
the  weans  wad  hae  dune,  whether  I  trotted  or  cantered.' 

In  this  strange  story  Bertram  obviously  saw,  supposing 
the  warning  to  be  true,  some  intimation  of  danger  more 
violent  and  imminent   than  could  be   likely   to   arise   from 


366  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

a  few  days'  imprisonment.  At  the  same  time  it  was  equally 
evident  that  some  unknown  friend  was  working  in  his  be- 
half, 'Did  you  not  say,'  he  asked  Dinmont,  'that  this  man 
Gabriel  was  of  gipsy  blood?' 

'It  was  e'en  judged  sae,'  said  Dinmont,  'and  I  think  this 
maks  it  likely;  for  they  ay  ken  where  the  gangs  o'  ilk  ither 
are  to  be  found,  and  they  can  gar  news  flee  like  a  footba' 
through  the  country  an  they  like.  An'  I  forgot  to  tell 
ye,  there's  been  an  unco  inquiry  after  the  auld  wife  that 
we  saw  in  Bewcastle ;  the  Sheriff's  had  folk  ower  the 
Limestane  Edge  after  her  and  down  the  Hermitage  and 
Liddel,  and  a'  gates,  and  a  reward  offered  for  her  to  appear, 
o'  fifty  pound  sterling,  nae  less ;  and  Justice  Forster,  he  's 
had  out  warrants,  as  I  am  tell'd,  in  Cumberland,  and  an 
unco  ranging  and  riping  they  have  had  a'  gates  seeking  for 
her — but  she'll  no  be  taen  wi'  them  unless  she  likes,  for  a' 
that.' 

'And  how   comes  that?'  said   Bertram. 

'Ou,  I  dinna  ken ;  I  daur  say  it 's  nonsense,  but  they  say 
she  has  gathered  the  fern-seed,  and  can  gang  ony  gate  she 
likes,  like  Jock-the-Giant-killer  in  the  ballant,  wi'  his  coat 
o'  darkness  and  his  shoon  o'  swiftness.  Ony  way  she 's 
a  kind  o'  queen  amang  the  gipsies;  she  is  mair  than  a  hundred 
year  auld,  folk  say,  and  minds  the  coming  in  o'  the  moss- 
troopers in  the  troublesome  times  when  the  Stuarts  were  put 
awa.  Sae,  if  she  canna  hide  hersell,  she  kens  them  that 
can  hide  her  w-eel  eneugh,  ye  needna  doubt  that.  Od,  an  I 
had  kenn'd  it  had  been  Meg  Merrilies  yon  night  at  Tibb 
Mumps's,  I  wad  taen  care  how  I  crossed  her.' 

Bertram  listened  with  great  attention  to  this  account, 
which  tallied  so  well  in  many  points  with  what  he  had 
himself  seen  of  this  gipsy  sibyl.  After  a  moment's  con- 
sideration, he  concluded  it  would  be  no  breach  of  faith  to 
mention  what  he  had  seen  at  Derncleugh  to  a  person  who 
held  Meg  in  such  reverence  as  Dinmont  obviously  did.  He 
told  his  story  accordingly,  often  interrupted  by  ejaculations, 
such  as,  'Weel,  the  like  o'  that  now  !'  or,  'Na,  deil  an  that 's 
no  something  now !' 

When  our  Liddesdale  friend  had  heard  the  whole  to  an 
end,   he    shook    his    great   black    head — 'Weel,    I'll    uphaud 


GUY    MANNERING  367 

there  's  baith  gude  and  ill  amang  the  gipsies,  and  if  they 
deal  \vi'  the  Enemy,  it 's  a'  their  ain  business,  and  no  ours. 
I  ken  what  the  streeking  the  corpse  wad  be,  weel  eneugh. 
Thae  smuggler  deevils,  when  ony  o'  them  's  killed  in  a 
fray,  they'll  send  for  a  wife  like  Meg  far  eneugh  to  dress 
the  corpse — od,  it 's  a'  the  burial  they  ever  think  o' !  and 
then  to  be  put  into  the  ground  without  ony  decency,  just 
like  dogs.  But  they  stick  to  it  that  they'll  be  streekit,  and 
hae  an  auld  wife  when  they're  dying  to  rhyme  ower  prayers, 
and  ballants,  and  charms,  as  they  ca'  them,  rather  than 
they'll  hae  a  minister  to  come  and  pray  wi'  them — that's 
an  auld  threep  o'  theirs;  and  I  am  thinking  the  man  that 
died  will  hae  been  ane  o'  the  folk  that  was  shot  when  they 
burnt  Woodbourne.' 

'But,  my  good  friend,  Woodbourne  is  not  burnt,'  said 
Bertram. 

"Weel,  the  better  for  them  that  bides  in  't' — answered  the 
store-farmer.  Od,  we  had  it  up  the  water  wi'  us,  that  there 
wasna  a  stane  on  the  tap  o'  anither.  But  there  was  fighting, 
ony  way ;  I  daur  to  say,  it  would  be  fine  fun !  And,  as  I 
said,  ye  may  take  it  on  trust,  that  that 's  been  ane  o'  the 
men  killed  there,  and  that  it 's  been  the  gipsies  that  took  your 
pockmanky  when  they  fand  the  chaise  stickin'  in  the  snaw — 
they  wadna  pass  the  like  o'  that — it  wad  just  come  to  their 
hand  like  the  bowl  o'  a  pint  stoup." 

'But  if  this  woman  is  a  sovereign  among  them,  why  was 
she  not  able  to  afiford  me  open  protection,  and  to  get  me 
back  my  property?' 

"Ou,  wha  kens?  she  has  muckle  to  say  wi'  them,  but  whiles 
they'll  tak  their  ain  way  for  a'  that,  when  they're  under 
temptation.  And  then  there  's  the  smugglers  that  they're  ay 
leagued  wi' ;  she  maybe  couldna  manage  them  sae  weel — 
they're  ay  banded  thegither.  "I've  heard  that  the  gipsies  ken 
when  the  smugglers  will  come  aff,  and  where  they're  to  land, 
better  than  the  very  merchants  that  deal  wi'  them.  And 
then,  to  the  boot  o'  that  she 's  whiles  crack-brained,  and 
has  a  bee  in  her  head;  they  say  that  whether  her  spaeings 
and  fortune-tellings  be  true  or  no,  for  certain  she  believes 
in  them  a'  hersell,  and  is  ay  guiding  hersell  by  some  queer 

'The  handle  of  a  stoup  of  liquor;  than  which,  our  proverb  seems  to 
infer,  there  is  nothing  comes  more  readily  to  the  ({rasp. 


368  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

prophecy  or  anither.  So  she  disna  ay  gang  the  straight 
road  to  the  well. — But  deil  o'  sic  a  story  as  yours,  wi' 
glamour  and  dead  folk  and  losing  ane's  gate,  I  ever  heard 
out  o'  the  tale-books ! — But  whisht,  I  hear  the  keeper 
coming.' 

Mac-Guffog  accordingly  interrupted  their  discourse  by 
the  harsh  harmony  of  the  bolts  and  bars,  and  showed  his 
bloated  visage  at  the  opening  door.  'Come,  Mr.  Dinmont, 
we  have  put  off  locking  up  for  an  hour  to  oblige  ye ;  ye 
must  go  to  your  quarters,' 

'Quarters,  man?  I  intend  to  sleep  here  the  night. 
There  's  a  spare  bed  in  the  Captain's  room.' 

'It 's  impossible !'  answered  the  keeper. 

'But  I  say  it  is  possible,  and  that  I  winna  stir — and  there's 
a  dram  t'ye.' 

Mac-Guffog  drank  off  the  spirits,  and  resumed  his  objec- 
tion. 'But  it's  against  rule,  sir ;  ye  have  committed  nae  male- 
faction.' 

'I'll  break  your  head,'  said  the  sturdy  Liddesdale  man,  'if 
ye  say  ony  mair  about  it,  and  that  will  be  malefaction 
eneugh  to  entitle  me  to  ae  night's  lodging  wi'  you,  ony 
way.' 

'But  I  tell  ye,  Mr.  Dinmont,'  reiterated  the  keeper,  it's 
I'gainst  rule,  and  I  behoved  to  lose  my  post.' 

'Weel,  Mac-Guft'og,'  said  Dandie,  'I  hae  just  twa  things  to 
say.  Ye  ken  what  I  am  weel  eneugh,  and  that  I  wadna  loose 
n  prisoner.' 

'And  how  do  I  ken  that?'  answered  the  jailor. 

'Weel,  if  ye  dinna  ken  that,'  said  the  resolute  farmer,  'ye 
ken  this ; — ye  ken  ye're  whiles  obliged  to  be  up  our  water  in 
the  way  o'  your  business ;  now,  if  ye  let  me  stay  quietly  here 
the  night  wi'  the  Captain,  I'se  pay  ye  double  fees  for  the 
room ;  and  if  ye  say  no,  ye  shall  hae  the  best  sark-fu'  o'  sair 
banes  that  ever  ye  had  in  your  life,  the  first  time  ye  set  a 
foot  by  Liddel-moat !' 

'Aweel,  aweel,  gudeman,'  said  Mac-Guffog,  'a  wilfu'  man 
maun  hae  his  way ;  but  if  I  am  challenged  for  it  by  the  jus- 
tices, 1  ken  wha  sail  bear  the  wyte ;'  and  having  sealed  this 
observation  with  a  deep  oath  or  two,  he  retired  to  bed,  after 
carefully  securing  all  the  doors  of  the  Bridewell.     The  bell 


GUY    MAXNERIXG  f?C9 

from  the  town  steeple  tolled  nine  just  as  the  ceremony  was 
concluded. 

'Although  it's  but  early  hours,'  said  the  farmer,  who  had 
observed  that  his  friend  looked  somewhat  pale  and  fatigued, 
'1  think  we  had  better  lie  down,  Captain,  if  ye're  no  agreeable 
10  another  cheerer.  But  troth,  ye're  nae  glass-breaker ;  and 
neither  am  I,  unless  it  be  a  screed  wi'  the  neighbours,  or 
when  I'm  on  a  ramble.' 

Bertram  readily  assented  to  the  motion  of  his  faithful 
friend,  but,  on  looking  at  the  bed,  felt  repugnance  to  trust 
himself  undressed  to  Mrs.  Mac-Guffog's  clean  sheets. 

'I'm  muckle  o'  your  opinion.  Captain,'  said  Dandie.  'Od, 
this  bed  looks  as  if  a'  the  colliers  in  Sanquhar  had  been  in't 
thegither.  But  it'll  no  win  through  my  muckle  coat.'  So  say- 
ing, he  flung  himself  upon  the  frail  bed  with  a  force  that 
made  all  its  timbers  crack,  and  in  a  few  moments  gave  audible 
signal  that  he  was  fast  asleep.  Bertram  slipped  oft"  his  coat 
and  boots,  and  occupied  the  other  dormitory.  The  strange- 
ness of  his  destiny,  and  the  mysteries  which  appeared  to 
thicken  around  him,  while  he  seemed  alike  to  be  persecuted 
and  protected  by  secret  enemies  and  friends,  arising  out  of  a 
class  of  people  with  whom  he  had  no  previous  connexion,  for 
some  time  occupied  his  thoughts.  Fatigue,  however,  gradu- 
ally composed  his  mind,  and  in  a  short  time  he  was  as  fast 
asleep  as  his  companion.  And  in  this  comfortable  state  of 
oblivion  we  must  leave  them,  until  we  acquaint  the  reader 
v.ith  some  other  circumstances  which  occurred  about  the 
same  period. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 


Say  from  whence 


You  owe  this  strange  intelligence  ?  or  why 
Upon  this  blasted  heath  you  stop  our  way 
With  such  prophetic  greeting? — 
Speak,   I   charge  you. 

Macbeth. 

UPON  the  evening  of  the  day  when  Bertram's  exami- 
nation had  taken  place.  Colonel  Mannering  arrived 
at  Woodbourne  frorrv  Edinburgh.  He  found  hi.s 
family  in  their  usual  state,  which  probably,  so  far  as  Julia 
was  concerned,  would  not  have  been  the  case  had  she  learned 
the  new^s  of  Bertram's  arrest.  But  as,  during  the  Colonel's 
absence,  the  two  young  ladies  lived  much  retired,  this  cir- 
cumstance fortunately  had  not  reached  Woodbourne.  A 
letter  had  already  made  Miss  Bertram  acquainted  with  the 
downfall  of  the  expectations  which  had  been  formed  upon 
the  bequest  of  her  kinswoman.  Whatever  hopes  that  news 
might  have  dispelled,  the  disappointment  did  not  prevent 
her  from  joining  her  friend  in  affording  a  cheerful  reception 
to  the  Colonel,  to  whom  she  thus  endeavoured  to  express 
the  deep  sense  she  entertained  of  his  paternal  kindness. 
She  touched  on  her  regret,  that  at  such  a  season  of  the 
year  he  should  have  made,  upon  her  account,  a  journey 
so  fruitless. 

'That  it  was  fruitless  to  you,  my  dear,'  said  the  Colonel. 
'I  do  most  deeply  lament ;  but  for  my  own  share,  I  have 
made  some  valuable  acquaintances,  and  have  spent  the  time 
I  have  been  absent  in  Edinburgh  with  peculiar  satisfaction ; 
so  that,  on  that  score,  there  is  nothing  to  be  regretted. 
Even  our  friend  the  Dominie  is  returned  thrice  the  man  he 
was,  from  having  sharpened  his  wits  in  controversy  with 
the  geniuses  of  the  northern  metropolis.' 

'Of  a  surety,'  said  the  Dominie,  with  great  complacency, 
'I  did  wrestle,  and  was  not  overcome,  though  my  adversary 
was  cunning  in  his  art.' 

370 


GUY    MAyNERTNG  371 

*I  presume/  said  Miss  Mannering,  'the  contest  was  some- 
what fatiguing,  ^Ir.  Sampson?" 

'V^ery  much,  young  lady — howbeit,  I  girded  up  my  loins 
and  strove  against  him.' 

'I  can  bear  witness,'  said  the  Colonel,  'I  never  saw  an 
affair  better  contested.  The  enemy  was  like  the  Mahratta 
cavalry — he  assailed  on  all  sides,  and  presented  no  fair 
mark  for  artillery;  but  Mr.  Sampson  stood  to  his  guns, 
notwithstanding,  and  fired  away,  now  upon  the  enemy,  and 
now  upon  the  dust  which  he  had  raised.  But  we  must  not 
fight  our  battles  over  again  to-night — to-morrow  we  shall 
have  the  whole  at  breakfast.' 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  however,  the  Dominie 
did  not  make  his  appearance.  He  had  walked  out,  a  servant 
said,  early  in  the  morning ; — it  was  so  common  for  him  to 
forget  his  meals,  that  his  absence  never  deranged  the 
family.  The  housekeeper,  a  decent  old-fashioned  Presby- 
terian matron,  having,  as  such,  the  highest  respect  for 
Sampson's  theological  acquisitions,  had  it  in  charge  on 
these  occasions  to  take  care  that  he  was  no  sufferer  by  his 
absence  of  mind,  and  therefore  usually  waylaid  him  on 
his  return,  to  remind  him  of  his  sublunary  wants  and  to 
minister  to  their  relief.  It  seldom,  however,  happened, 
that  he  was  absent  from  two  meals  together,  as  was  the 
case  in  the  present  instance.  We  must  explain  the  cause 
of  this  unusual  occurrence. 

The  conversation  which  Mr.  Pleydell  had  held  with  Mr. 
Mannering  on  the  subject  of  the  loss  of  Harry  Bertram. 
had  awakened  all  the  painful  sensations  which  that  event 
had  inflicted  upon  Sampson.  The  affectionate  heart  of 
the  poor  Dominie  had  always  reproached  him.  that  his 
negligence  in  leaving  the  child  in  the  care  of  Frank  Kennedy 
had  been  the  proximate  cause  of  the  murder  of  the  one, 
the  loss  of  the  other,  the  death  of  Mrs.  Bertram,  and  the 
ruin  of  the  family  of  his  patron.  It  was  a  subject  which 
he  never  conversed  upon — if  indeed  his  mode  of  speech 
could  be  called  conversation  at  any  time — but  it  was  often 
present  to  his  imagination.  The  sort  of  hope  so  strongly 
affirmed  and  asserted  in  Mrs.  Bertram's  last  settlement, 
had  excited  a  corresponding  feeling  in  the  Dominie's  bosom. 


372  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

which  was  exasperated  into  a  sort  of  sickening  anxiety, 
by  the  discredit  with  which  Pleydell  had  treated  it. 
'Assuredly,'  thought  Sampson  to  himself,  'he  is  a  man  of 
erudition,  and  well  skilled  in  the  weighty  matters  of  the 
law ;  but  he  is  also  a  man  of  humourous  levity  and  incon- 
sistency of  speech ;  and  wherefore  should  he  pronounce 
ex  cathedra,  as  it  were,  on  the  hope  expressed  by  worthy 
Madam  Margaret  Bertram  of  Singleside?' — 

All  this,  I  say  the  Dominie  thought  to  himself;  for  had 
he  uttered  half  the  sentences,  his  jaws  would  have  ached 
for  a  month  under  the  unusual  fatigue  of  such  a  continued 
exertion. 

The  result  of  these  cogitations  was  a  resolution  to  go 
and  visit  the  scene  of  the  tragedy  at  Warroch  Point, 
where  he  had  not  been  for  many  years — not,  indeed,  since 
the  fatal  accident  had  happened.  The  walk  was  a  long 
one,  for  the  Point  of  Warroch  lay  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  Ellangowan  property,  which  was  interposed  between  it 
and  Woodbourne.  Besides,  the  Dominie  went  astray  more 
than  once,  and  met  with  brooks  swollen  into  torrents  by 
the  melting  of  the  snow,  where  he,  honest  man,  had  only  the 
summer-recollection  of  little  trickling  rills. 

At  length,  however,  he  reached  the  woods  which  he  had 
made  the  object  of  his  excursion,  and  traversed  them  with 
care,  muddling  his  disturbed  brains  with  vague  efforts, 
to  recall  every  circumstance  of  the  catastrophe.  It  will 
readily  be  supposed  that  the  influence  of  local  situation 
and  association  was  inadequate  to  produce  conclusions 
different  from  those  which  he  had  formed  under  the  im- 
mediate pressure  of  the  occurrences  themselves.  'With 
many  a  weary  sigh,  therefore,  and  many  a  groan.*  the  poor 
Dominie  returned  from  his  hopeless  pilgrimage,  and 
weariedly  plodded  his  way  towards  Woodbourne,  debating 
at  times  in  his  altered  mind  a  question  which  was  forced 
upon  him  by  the  cravings  of  an  appetite  rather  of  the 
keenest,  namely,  whether  he  had  breakfasted  that  morning 
or  no? — It  was  in  this  twilight  humour,  now  thinking  of  the 
loss  of  the  child,  then  involuntarily  compelled  to  meditate 
upon  the  somewhat  incongruous  subject  of  hung-beef,  rolls, 
and  butter,  that  his  route,  which  was  different   from  that 


GUY    MANNERTNG  373 

which  he  had  taken  in  the  morning,  conducted  him  past  the 
small  ruined  tower,  or  rather  vestige  of  a  tower,  called  by 
the  country  people  the  Kaim  of  Derncleugh. 

The  reader  may  recollect  the  description  of  this  ruin  in 
the  twenty-seventh  chapter  of  this  narrative,  as  the  vault 
in  which  young  Bertram,  under  the  auspices  of  Meg  Merri- 
lies,  witnessed  the  death  of  Hatteraick's  lieutenant.  The 
tradition  of  the  country  added  ghostly  terrors  to  the 
natural  awe  inspired  by  the  situation  of  this  place — which 
terrors  the  gipsies,  who  so  long  inhabited  the  vicinity,  had 
probably  invented,  or  at  least  propagated,  for  their  own 
advantage.  It  was  said  that,  during  the  times  of  the  Gal- 
wegian  independence,  one  Hanlon  Mac-Dingawaie,  brother 
to  the  reigning  chief,  Knarth  Mac-Dingawaie,  murdered  his 
brother  and  sovereign,  in  order  to  usurp  the  principality 
from  his  infant  nephew,  and  that  being  pursued  for  ven- 
geance by  the  faithful  allies  and  retainers  of  the  house,  who 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  lawful  heir,  he  was  compelled  to 
retreat  with  a  few  followers  whom  he  had  involved  in  his 
crime,  to  this  impregnable  tower  called  the  Kaim  of  Dern- 
cleugh, where  he  defended  himself  until  nearly  reduced  by 
famine,  when,  setting  fire  to  the  place,  he  and  the  small 
remaining  garrison  desperately  perished  by  their  own 
swords,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  exasperated 
enemies.  This  tragedy,  which,  considering  the  wild  times 
wherein  it  was  placed,  might  have  some  foundation  in 
truth,  was  larded  with  many  legends  of  superstition  and 
diablerie,  so  that  most  of  the  peasants  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, if  benighted,  would  rather  have  chosen  to  make  a 
considerable  circuit,  than  pass  these  haunted  walls.  The 
lights,  often  seen  around  the  tower  when  used  as  the  ren- 
dezvous of  the  lawless  characters  by  whom  it  was  occa- 
sionally frequented,  were  accounted  for,  under  authority 
of  these  tales  of  witchery,  in  a  manner  at  once  convenient 
for  the  private  parties  concerned,  and  satisfactory  to  the 
public. 

Now  it  must  be  confessed  that  our  friend  Sampson, 
although  a  profound  scholar  and  mathematician,  had  not 
travelled  so  far  in  philosophy  as  to  doubt  the  reality  of 
witchcraft   or   apparitions.     Born   indeed   at   a   time   when 


37 i  SIR    M'ALTER    SCOTT 

a  doubt  in  the  existence  of  witches  was  interpreted  as 
equivalent  to  a  justification  of  their  infernal  practices, 
a  belief  of  such  legends  had  been  impressed  upon  the 
Dominie  as  an  article  indivisible  from  his  religious  faith ; 
and  perhaps  it  would  have  been  equally  difficult  to  have 
induced  him  to  doubt  the  one  as  the  other.  With  these 
feelings,  and  in  a  thick  misty  day,  which  was  already 
drawing  to  its  close,  Dominie  Sampson  did  not  pass 
the  Kaim  of  Derncleugh  without  some  feelings  of  tacit 
horror. 

What,  then,  was  his  astonishment,  when,  on  passing  the 
door — that  door  which  was  supposed  to  have  been  placed 
there  by  one  of  the  latter  Lairds  of  Ellangowan  to  prevent 
presumptuous  strangers  from  incurring  the  dangers  of  the 
haunted  vault — that  door,  supposed  to  be  always  locked, 
and  the  key  of  which  was  popularly  said  to  be  deposited 
with  the  presbytery — that  door,  that  very  door,  opened 
suddenly,  and  the  figure  of  Meg  Merrilies,  well  known, 
though  not  seen  for  many  a  revolving  year,  was  placed  at 
once  before  the  eyes  of  the  startled  Dominie !  She  stood 
immediately  before  him  in  the  footpath,  confronting  him  so 
absolutely,  that  he  could  not  avoid  her  except  by  fairly 
turning  back,  which  his  manhood  prevented  him  from 
thinking  of. 

'I  kenn'd  ye  wad  be  here,'  she  said,  with  her  harsh  and 
hollow  voice:  'I  ken  wha  ye  seek;  but  ye  maun  do  my 
bidding.' 

'Get  thee  behind  me !'  said  the  alarmed  Dominie — 'Avoid 
ye  ! — Conjuro  tc,  scclcstissima — ncqnissima — spurcissima — 
iniquissima — atque  miscrrima — conjuro  tc ! ! ! — ' 

Meg  stood  her  ground  against  this  tremendous  volley 
of  superlatives,  which  Sampson  hawked  up  from  the  pit 
of  his  stomach,  and  hurled  at  her  in  thunder.  'Is  the  earl 
daft,'  she  said,  'wi'  his  glamour?' 

'Conjuro'  continued  the  Dominie,  'abjuro,  contcstor  atque 
virilitcr  impcro  fibi! — ' 

'What,  in  the  name  of  Sathan,  arc  ye  feared  for.  wi'  your 
French  gibberish  that  would  make  a  dog  sick?  Listen, 
ye  stickit  stibbler,  to  what  I  tell  ye,  or  ye  sail  rue  it  while 
there's  a  limb  o'  ye  hings  to  anither !    Tell  Colonel  Manner- 


GUY    MANNERING  375 

ing  that  I  ken  he's  seeking  me.  He  kens,  and  I  ken,  that 
the  blood  will  be  wiped  out,  and  the  lost  will  be  found. 

And  Bertram's  right  and   Bertram's  might 
■  Shall   meet  on   Ellangowan   height. 

Hae,  there's  a  letter  to  him ;  I  was  gaun  to  send  it  in 
another  way. — I  canna  write  mysell ;  but  I  hae  them  that 
will  baith  write  and  read,  and  ride  and  rin  for  me.  Tell 
him  the  time's  coming  now,  and  the  weird's  dreed,  and  the 
wheel's  turning.  Bid  him  look  at  the  stars  as  he  has  looked 
at  them  before. — Will  ye  mind  a'  this?' 

'Assuredly,'  said  the  Dominie,  'I  am  dubious — for,  woman,  I 
am  perturbed  at  thy  words,  and  my  flesh  quakes  to  hear  thee.' 

'They'll  do  you  nae  ill,  though,  and  maybe  muckle  gude.' 

'Avoid  ye  !  I  desire  no  good  that  comes  by  unlawful  means.' 

'Fule-body  that  thou  art !'  said  Meg,  stepping  up  to  him 
with  a  frown  of  indignation  that  made  her  dark  eyes  flash 
like  lamps  from  under  her  bent  brows — 'fule-body!  if  I  meant 
ye  wrang,  couldna  I  clod  ye  ower  that  craig,  and  wad  men 
ken  how  ye  cam  by  your  end  mair  than  Frank  Kennedy? 
Hear  ye  that,  ye  worricow  ?' 

'In  the  name  of  all  that  is  good,'  said  the  Dominie, 
recoiling,  and  pointing  his  long  pewter-headed  walking- 
cane  like  a  javelin  at  the  supposed  sorceress, — 'in  the  name 
of  all  that  is  good,  bide  off  hands !  I  will  not  be  handled — 
woman,  stand  off,  upon  thine  own  proper  peril ! — desist,  I  say 
— I  am  strong — lo.  I  will  resist !'  Here  his  speech  was  cut 
short;  for  Meg,  armed  with  supernatural  strength  (as  the 
Dominie  asserted),  broke  in  upon  his  guard,  put  by  a  thrust 
which  he  made  at  her  with  his  cane,  and  lifted  him  into  the 
vault,  'as  easily,'  said  he,  "as  I  could  sway  a  Kitchen's 
Atlas.' 

'Sit  down  there,'  she  said,  pushing  the  half-throttled 
preacher  with  some  violence  against  a  broken  chair — 'sit 
down  there,  and  gather  your  wind  and  your  senses,  yc 
black  barrow-tram  o'  the  kirk  that  ye  are ! — Are  ye  fou 
or  fasting?' 

'Fasting — from  all  but  sin,'  answered  the  Dominie,  who, 
recovering  his  voice,  and  finding  his  exorcisms  only  served 
to  exasperate  the  intractable  sorceress,  thought  it  best  to 


376  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

affect  complaisance  and  submission,  inwardly  conning  over, 
however,  the  wholesome  conjurations  which  he  durst  no 
longer  utter  aloud.  But  as  the  Dominie's  brain  was  by  no 
means  equal  to  carry  on  two  trains  of  ideas  at  the  same 
time,  a  word  or  two  of  his  mental  exercise  sometimes 
escaped,  and  mingled  with  his  uttered  speech  in  a  manner 
ludicrous  enough,  especially  as  the  poor  man  shrunk  himself 
together  after  every  escape  of  the  kind,  from  terror  of  the 
effect  it  might  produce  upon  the  irritable  feelings  of  the 
witch. 

Meg,  in  the  meanwhile,  went  to  a  great  black  cauldron 
that  was  boiling  on  a  fire  on  the  floor,  and,  lifting  the  lid, 
an  odour  was  diffused  through  the  vault,  which,  if  the 
vapours  of  a  witch's  cauldron  could  in  aught  be  trusted, 
promised  better  things  than  the  hell-broth  which  such  vessels 
are  usually  supposed  to  contain.  It  was  in  fact  the  savour 
of  a  goodly  stew,  composed  of  fowls,  hares,  partridges,  and 
moorgame,  boiled  in  a  large  mess  with  potatoes,  onions,  and 
leeks,  and,  from  the  size  of  the  cauldron,  appeared  to  be  pre- 
pared for  half  a  dozen  people  at  least. 

'So  ye  hae  eat  naething  a'  day?'  said  Meg,  heaving  a  large 
portion  of  this  mess  into  a  brown  dish,  and  strewing  it 
savourily  with  salt  and  pepper." 

'Nothing,'  answered  the  Dominie — 'scelestissima! — that  is 
— gudewife.' 

'Hae  then,'  said  she,  placing  the  dish  before  him,  'there's 
what  will  warm  your  heart.' 

'  I  do  not  hunger — malefica — that  is  to  say — Mrs.  Merri- 
lies!'  for  he  said  unto  himself,  'the  savour  is  sweet,  but  it 
hath  been  cooked  by  a  Canidia  or  an  Ericthoe.' 

'If  ye  dinna  eat  instantly,  and  put  some  saul  in  ye,  by 
the  bread  and  the  salt,  I'll  put  it  down  your  throat  wi' 
the  cutty  spoon,  scaulding  as  it  is,  and  whether  ye  will  or  no. 
Gape,  sinner,  and  swallow !' 

Sampson,  afraid  of  eye  of  newt,  and  toe  of  frog,  tigers' 
chaudrons,  and  so  forth,  had  determined  not  to  venture ; 
but  the  smell  of  the  stew  was  fast  melting  his  obstinacy, 
which  flowed  from  his  chops  as  it  were  in  streams  of  water, 
and  the  witch's  threats  decided  him  to  feed.  Hunger  and 
fear  are  excellent  casuists. 


GUY    MAXXERING  377 

'Saul'  said  Hunger,  'feasted  with  the  witch  of  Endor,' — 
'And,'  quoth  Fear,  'the  salt  which  she  sprinkled  upon  the 
food  showeth  plainly  it  is  not  a  necromantic  banquet,  in 
which  that  seasoning  never  occurs.' — 'And  besides.'  says 
Hunger,  after  the  first  spoonful,  'it  is  savoury  and  refreshing 
viands.' 

'So  ye  like  the  meat  ?'  said  the  hostess. 

'Yea,'  answered  the  Dominie,  'and  I  give  thee  thanks— 
sccleratissima ! — which  means — Mrs.  Margaret.' 

'Aweel.  eat  your  fill !  but  an  ye  kenn'd  how  it  was  gotten, 
ye  maybe  wadna  like  it  sae  week'  Sampson's  spoon  dropped, 
in  the  act  of  conveying  its  load  to  his  mouth.  'There's  been 
mony  a  moonlight  watch  to  bring  a'  that  trade  thegither,' 
continued  Meg, — 'the  folk  that  are  to  eat  that  dinner  thought 
little  o'  your  game-laws.' 

'Is  that  all?'  thought  Sampson,  resuming  his  spoon,  and 
shovelling  away  manfully;  'I  will  not  lack  my  food  upon 
that  argument.' 

'Now,  ye  maun  tak  a  dram.' 

'I  will,'  quoth  Sampson — 'coujuro  te — that  is,  I  thank  you 
heartily,'  for  he  thought  to  himself,  in  for  a  penny,  in  for  a 
pound;  and  he  fairly  drank  the  witch's  health  in  a  cupful  of 
brandy.  When  he  had  put  this  cope-stone  upon  Meg's  good 
cheer,  he  felt,  as  he  said,  'mightily  elevated,  and  afraid  of  no 
evil  which  could  befall  unto  him.' 

'Will  ye  remember  my  errand  now?'  said  Meg  Merrilies; 
'I  ken  by  the  cast  o'  your  ee  that  ye'rc  anither  man  than 
when  you  cam  in.' 

'I  will,  Mrs.  Margaret,'  repeated  Sampson  stoutly;  'I  will 
deliver  unto  him  the  sealed  yepistle,  and  will  add  what  you 
please  to  send  by  word  of  mouth.' 

'Then  I'll  make  it  short,'  says  Meg.  'Tell  him  to  look  at 
the  stars  without  fail  this  night,  and  to  do  what  I  desire  him 
in  that  letter,  as  he  would  wish 

That  Bertram's  ripht  and  Bertram's  might 
Should    meet   on    Ellangowan   height. 

I  have  seen  him  twice  when  he  saw  na  me;  I  ken  when  he 
was  in  this  country  first,  and  I  ken  what's  brought  him 
back  again.  Up,  an'  to  the  gate !  ye're  ower  lang  here— 
follow  me.' 


378  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Sampson  followed  the  sibyl  accordingly,  who  guided  him 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  through  the  woods,  by  a  shorter 
cut  than  he  could  have  found  for  himself;  they  then  en- 
tered upon  the  common,  Meg  still  marching  before  him  at  a 
great  pace,  until  she  gained  the  top  of  a  small  hillock  which 
overhung  the  road. 

'Here,'  she  said,  'stand  still  here.  Look  how  the  setting 
sun  breaks  through  yon  cloud  that's  been  darkening  the  lift 
a'  day.  See  where  the  first  stream  o'  light  fa's — it  's  upon 
Donagild's  round  tower — the  auldest  tower  in  the  Castle  o* 
Ellangowan — that's  no  for  naething! — See  as  it  's  glooming 
to  seaward  abune  yon  sloop  in  the  bay — that  's  no  for  naeth- 
ing neither. — Here  I  stood  on  this  very  spot,'  said  she, 
drawing  herself  up  so  as  not  to  lose  one  hairbreadth  of  her 
uncommon  height,  and  stretching  out  her  long  sinewy  arm 
and  clenched  hand — 'here  I  stood,  when  I  tauld  the  last  Laird 
o'  Ellangowan  what  was  coming  on  his  house ; — and  did  that 
fa'  to  the  ground  ?  Na — it  hit  even  ower  sair !  And  here, 
where  I  brake  the  wand  of  peace  ower  him — here  I  stand 
again — to  bid  God  bless  and  prosper  the  just  heir  of  Ellan- 
gowan that  will  sune  be  brought  to  his  ain ;  and  the  best 
laird  he  shall  be  that  Ellangowan  has  seen  for  three  hundred 
years.  I'll  no  live  to  see  it,  maybe ;  but  there  will  be  mony  a 
blythe  ee  see  it  though  mine  be  closed.  And  now,  Abel  Samp- 
son, as  ever  ye  lo'ed  the  house  of  Ellangowan,  away  wi'  my 
message  to  the  English  Colonel,  as  if  life  and  death  were 
upon  your  haste !' 

So  saying,  she  turned  suddenly  from  the  amazed  Dominie, 
and  regained  with  swift  and  long  strides  the  shelter  of  the 
wood  from  which  she  had  issued,  at  the  point  where  it  most 
encroached  upon  the  common.  Sampson  gazed  after  her  for 
a  moment  in  utter  astonishment,  and  then  obeyed  her  direc- 
tions, hurrying  to  Woodbourne  at  a  pace  very  unusual  for 
him.  exclaiming  three  times,  "Prodigious  !  prodigious !  pro- 
di-gi-ous !' 


CHAPTER    XLVII 

It  is  not  madness 


That  I  have  uttered ;  bring  me  to  the  test, 

And   I   the  matter  will  re-word ;   which   madness 

Would   gambol   from. 

Hamlet. 

AS  Mr.  Sampson  crossed  the  hall  with  a  bewildered  look, 
/\  Mrs.  Allan,  the  good  housekeeper,  who,  with  the  rev- 
-^-^  erent  attention  which  is  usually  rendered  to  the 
clergy  in  Scotland,  was  on  the  watch  for  his  return,  sallied 
forth  to  meet  him — 'What's  this  o't  now,  Mr.  Sampson; 
this  is  waur  than  ever ! — ye'll  really  do  yourself  some  injury 
wi'  these  lang  fasts — naething's  sae  hurtful  to  the  stamach, 
Mr.  Sampson; — if  ye  would  but  put  some  peppermint  draps 
in  your  pocket,  or  let  Barnes  cut  ye  a  sandwich." 

'Avoid  thee!'  quoth  the  Dominie,  his  mind  running  still 
upon  his  interview  with  Meg  Merrilies,  and  making  for  the 
dining-parlour. 

'Na,  ye  needna  gang  in  there — the  cloth's  been  removed  an 
hour  syne,  and  the  Colonel's  at  his  wine;  but  just  step  into 
my  room — I  have  a  nice  steak  that  the  cook  will  do  in  a 
moment.' 

'Excrciso  te !'  said  Sampson, — 'that  is.  I  have  dined.' 

'Dined !  it's  impossible — wha  can  ye  hae  dined  wi,'  you 
that  gangs  out  nae  gate?' 

'With  Beelzebub,  I  believe,'  said  the  minister. 

'Na,  then  he  's  bewitched  for  certain.'  said  the  house- 
keeper, letting  go  her  hold;  'he's  bewitched,  or  he's  daft,  and 
ony  way  the  Colonel  maun  just  guide  him  his  ain  gate.  Wae's 
me!  Hech,  sirs!  It's  a  sair  thing  to  see  learning  bring 
folk  to  this!'  And  with  this  compassionate  ejaculation  she 
retreated  into  her  own  premises. 

The  object  of  her  commiseration  had  by  this  time  entered 
the  dining-parlour,  where  his  appearance  gave  great  sur- 
prise.   He  was  mud  up  to  the  shoulders,  and  the  natural  pale- 

379 


380  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ness  of  his  hue  was  twice  as  cadaverous  as  usual,  through 
terror,  fatigue,  and  perturbation  of  mind.  'What  on  earth 
is  the  meaning  of  this,  Mr.  Sampson?'  said  Mannering,  who 
observed  Miss  Bertram  looking  much  alarmed  for  her  sim- 
ple but  attached  friend. 

'Exorciso,' — said  the  Dominie. 

'How,  sir?'  replied  the  astonished  Colonel. 

'I  crave  pardon,  honourable  sir !  but  my  wits — ' 

'Are  gone  a  wool-gathering.  I  think.  Pray,  Mr.  Samp- 
son, collect  yourself,  and  let  me  know  the  meaning  of  all 
this.' 

Sampson  was  about  to  reply,  but  finding  his  Latin  for- 
mula of  exorcism  still  came  most  readily  to  his  tongue,  he 
prudently  desisted  from  the  attempt,  and  put  the  scrap  of 
paper  which  he  had  received  from  the  gipsy  into  Manner- 
ing's  hand,  who  broke  the  seal  and  read  it  with  surprise. 
'This  seems  to  be  some  jest,'  he  said,  'and  a  very  dull  one.' 

'It  came  from  no  jesting  person,'  said  Mr.  Sampson. 

'From  whom  then  did  it  come?'  demanded  Mannering. 

The  Dominie,  who  often  displayed  some  delicacy  of  recol- 
lection in  cases  where  Miss  Bertram  had  an  interest,  remem- 
bered the  painful  circumstances  connected  with  Meg  Mer- 
rilies,  looked  at  the  young  ladies,  and  remained  silent.  'We 
will  join  you  at  the  tea-table  in  an  instant,  Julia.'  said  the 
Colonel ;  'I  see  that  Mr.  Sampson  wishes  to  speak  to  me 
alone. — And  now  they  are  gone,  what,  in  Heaven's  name, 
Mr.  Sampson,  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?' 

Tt  may  be  a  message  from  Heaven,'  said  the  Dominie,  'but 
it  came  by  Beelzebub's  postmistress.  It  was  that  witch,  Meg 
Merrilies,  who  should  have  been  burned  with  a  tar-barrel 
twenty  years  since,  for  a  harlot,  thief,  witch,  and  gipsy.' 

'Are  you  sure  it  was  she?'  said  the  Colonel,  with  great 
interest. 

'Sure,  honoured  sir?  Of  a  truth  she  is  one  not  to  be  for- 
gotten— the  like  o'  Meg  Merrilies  is  not  to  be  seen  in  any 
land.' 

The  Colonel  paced  the  room  rapidly,  cogitating  with  him- 
self. 'To  send  out  to  apprehend  her — but  it  is  too  distant  to 
send  to  Mac-Morlan,  and  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  is  a  pom- 
pous coxcomb ;  besides  the  chance  of  not  finding  her  upon 


GUY    MANNERIXG  381 

the  spot,  or  that  the  humour  of  silence  that  seized  her  before 
may  again  return ; — no,  I  will  not,  to  save  being  thought  a 
fool,  neglect  the  course  she  points  out.  Many  of  her  class 
set  out  by  being  impostors,  and  end  by  becoming  enthusiasts, 
or  hold  a  kind  of  darkling  conduct  between  both  lines,  un- 
conscious almost  when  they  are  cheating  themselves,  or  when 
imposing  on  others.  Well,  my  course  is  a  plain  one  at  any 
rate;  and  if  my  efforts  are  fruitless,  it  shall  not  be  owing  to 
over-jealousy  of  my  own  character  for  wisdom.' 

With  this  he  rang  the  bell,  and  ordering  Barnes  into  his 
private  sitting  room,  gave  him  some  orders,  with  the  result  of 
which  the  reader  may  be  made  hereafter  acquainted.  We 
must  now  take  up  another  adventure,  which  is  also  to  be 
woven  into  the  story  of  this  remarkable  day. 

Charles  Hazlewood  had  not  ventured  to  make  a  visit  at 
Woodbourne  during  the  absence  of  the  Colonel.  Indeed 
Mannering's  whole  behaviour  had  impressed  upon  him  an 
opinion  that  this  would  be  disagreeable;  and  such  was  the 
ascendency  which  the  successful  soldier  and  accomplished 
gentleman  had  attained  over  the  young  man's  conduct,  that 
in  no  respect  would  he  have  ventured  to  offend  him.  He 
saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  in  Colonel  Mannering's  general  con- 
duct, an  approbation  of  his  attachment  to  Miss  Bertram. 
But  then  he  saw  still  more  plainly  the  impropriety  of  any 
attempt  at  a  private  correspondence,  of  which  his  parents 
could  not  be  supposed  to  approve,  and  he  respected  this  bar- 
rier interposed  betwixt  them,  both  on  Mannering's  account, 
and  as  he  was  the  liberal  and  zealous  protector  of  Miss  Ber- 
tram. 'No,'  said  he  to  himself,  'I  will  not  endanger  the  com- 
fort of  my  Lucy's  present  retreat,  until  I  can  offer  her  a 
home  of  her  own.' 

With  this  valorous  resolution,  which  he  maintained,  al- 
though his  horse,  from  constant  habit,  turned  his  head  down 
the  avenue  of  Woodbourne,  and  although  he  himself  passed 
the  lodge  twice  every  day,  Charles  Hazlewood  withstood  a 
strong  inclination  to  ride  down,  just  to  ask  how  the  young 
ladies  were,  and  whether  he  could  be  of  any  service  to  them 
during  Colonel  Mannering's  absence.  But  on  the  second 
occasion  he  felt  the  temptation  so  severe,  that  he  resolved 
not  to  expose  himself  to  it  a  third  time;  and,  contenting 


383  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

himself  with  sending  hopes  and  inquiries,  and  so  forth,  to 
Woodbourne.  he  resolved  to  make  a  visit  long  promised  to 
a  family  at  some  distance,  and  to  return  in  such  time  as  to 
be  one  of  the  earliest  among  Mannering's  visitors  who  should 
congratulate  his  safe  arrival  from  his  distant  and  hazardous 
expedition  to  Edinburgh.  Accordingly,  he  made  out  his  visit, 
and  having  arranged  matters  so  as  to  be  informed  within  a 
few  hours  after  Colonel  Mannering  reached  home,  he  finally 
resolved  to  take  leave  of  the  friends  with  whom  he  had  spent 
the  intervening  time,  with  the  intention  of  dining  at  Wood- 
bourne,  where  he  was  in  a  great  measure  domesticated ;  and 
this  (for  he  thought  much  more  deeply  on  the  subject  than 
was  necessary)  would,  he  flattered  himself,  appear  a  simple, 
natural,  and  easy  mode  of  conducting  himself. 

Fate,  however,  of  which  lovers  make  so  many  complaints, 
was  in  this  case  unfavourable  to  Charles  Hazlewood.  His 
horse's  shoes  required  an  alteration,  in  consequence  of  the 
fresh  weather  having  decidedly  commenced.  The  lady  of  the 
house  where  he  was  a  visitor,  chose  to  indulge  in  her  own 
room  till  a  very  late  breakfast  hour.  His  friend  also  insisted 
on  showing  him  a  litter  of  puppies,  which  his  favourite 
pointer  bitch  had  produced  that  morning.  The  colours  had 
occasioned  some  doubts  about  the  paternity, — a  weighty  ques- 
tion of  legitimacy,  to  the  decision  of  which  Hazlewood's 
opinion  was  called  in  as  arbiter  between  his  friend  and  his 
groom,  and  which  inferred  in  its  consequences  which  of  the 
litter  should  be  drowned,  which  saved.  Besides,  the  Laird 
himself  delayed  our  young  lover's  departure  for  a  consider- 
able time,  endeavouring,  with  long  and  superfluous  rhetoric, 
to  insinuate  to  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood.  through  the  medium 
of  his  son,  his  own  particular  ideas  respecting  the  line  of 
a  meditated  turnpike   road. 

It  is  greatly  to  the  shame  of  our  young  lover's  appre- 
hension, that  after  the  tenth  reiterated  account  of  the 
matter,  he  could  not  see  the  advantage  to  be  obtained 
by  the  proposed  road  passing  over  the  Lang-hirst,  Windy- 
knowe.  the  Goodhouse-parke,  Hailziecroft,  and  then  cross- 
ing the  river  at  Simon's  Pool,  and  so  by  the  road  to 
Kippletringan — and  the  less  eligible  line  pointed  out  bv  the 
English  surveyor,  which  would  go  clear  through  the  main 


CyVY    MANVERING  383 

enclosures  at  Hazlewood.  and  cut  within  a  mile,  or  nearly  so, 
of  the  house  itself,  destroying  the  privacy  and  pleasure,  as 
his  informer  contended,  of  the  grounds. 

In  short,  the  adviser  (whose  actual  interest  was  to  have 
the  bridge  built  as  near  as  possible  to  a  farm  of  his  own) 
failed  in  every  effort  to  attract  young  Hazlewood's  attention, 
until  he  mentioned  by  chance  that  the  proposed  line  was  fa- 
voured by  'that  fellow  Glossin,'  who  pretended  to  take  a  lead 
in  the  county.  On  a  sudden,  young  Hazlewood  became  at- 
tentive and  interested;  and  having  satisfied  himself  which 
was  the  line  that  Glossin  patronized,  assured  his  friend  it 
should  not  be  his  fault  if  his  father  did  not  countenance  any 
other  instead  of  that.  But  these  various  interruptions  con- 
sumed the  morning.  Hazlewood  got  on  horseback  at  least 
three  hours  later  than  he  intended,  and,  cursing  fine  ladies, 
pointers,  puppies,  and  turnpike  acts  of  parliament,  saw  him- 
self detained  beyond  the  time  when  he  could,  with  propriety, 
intrude  upon  the  family  at  Woodbourne. 

He  had  passed,  therefore,  the  turn  of  the  road  which  led 
to  that  mansion,  only  edified  by  the  distant  appearance  of  the 
blue  smoke  curling  against  the  pale  sky  of  the  winter  eve- 
ning, when  he  thought  he  beheld  the  Dominie  taking  a  foot- 
path for  the  house  through  the  woods.  He  called  after  him. 
— but  in  vain;  for  that  honest  gentleman,  never  the  most 
susceptible  of  extraneous  impressions,  had  just  that  moment 
parted  from  Meg  Merrilies,  and  was  too  deeply  wrapped  up 
in  pondering  upon  her  vaticinations,  to  make  any  answer  to 
Hazlewood's  call.  He  was  therefore  obliged  to  let  him  pro- 
ceed without  inquiry  after  the  health  of  the  young  ladies,  or 
any  other  fishing  question,  to  which  he  might,  by  good 
chance,  have  had  an  answer  returned  wherein  Miss  Ber- 
tram's name  might  have  been  mentioned.  All  cause  for  haste 
was  now  over, — and,  slackening  the  reins  upon  his  horse's 
neck,  he  permitted  the  animal  to  ascend  at  his  own  leisure 
the  steep  sandy  track  between  two  high  banks,  which,  rising 
to  a  considerable  height,  commanded,  at  length,  an  extensive 
view  of  the  neighbouring  country. 

Hazlewood  was,  however,  so  far  from  eagerly  looking 
forward  to  this  prospect,  though  it  had  the  recommendation 
that   great    part   of   the   land    was   his    father's,    and   must 


384  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

necessarily  be  his  own,  that  his  head  still  turned  backward 
towards  the  chimneys  of  Woodbourne,  although,  at  every 
step  his  horse  made,  the  difficulty  of  employing  his  eyes 
in  that  direction  became  greater.  From  the  reverie  in  which 
he  was  sunk,  he  was  suddenly  roused  by  a  voice  too  harsh 
to  be  called  female,  yet  too  shrill  for  a  man : — 'What's 
kept  you  on  the  road  sae  lang? — maun  ither  folk  do  your 
wark  ?' 

He  looked  up ;  the  spokeswoman  was  very  tall,  had  a 
voluminous  handkerchief  rolled  round  her  head,  grizzled 
hair  flowing  in  elf-locks  from  beneath  it,  a  long  red  cloak, 
and  a  staff  in  her  hand,  headed  with  a  sort  of  spear-point — 
it  was,  in  short,  Meg  Merrilies.  Hazlewood  had  never  seen 
this  remarkable  figure  before ;  he  drew  up  his  reins  in 
astonishment  at  her  appearance,  and  made  a  full  stop.  'I 
think,'  continued  she,  'they  that  hae  taen  interest  in  the  house 
of  Ellangowan  suld  sleep  nane  this  night ;  three  men  hae 
been  seeking  ye,  and  you  are  gaun  hame  to  sleep  in  your 
bed. — D'ye  think  if  the  lad-bairn  fa's  the  sister  will  do  weel? 
Na,  na!' 

'I  don't   understand  you,  good  woman,'  said  Hazlewood. 

'If  you  speak  of  Miss ,  I  mean  of  any  of  the  late 

Ellangowan  family,  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  them.' 

'Of  the  late  Ellangowan  family !'  she  answered  with  great 
vehemence — 'of  the  late  Ellangowan  family  ! — and  when 
was  there  ever,  or  when  will  there  ever  be,  a  family  of 
Ellangowan.  but  bearing  the  gallant  name  of  the  bauld 
Bertrams?' 

"But  what  do  3'ou  mean,  good  woman?' 

'I  am  nae  good  woman — a'  the  coimtry  kens  I  am  bad 
eneugh,  and  baith  they  and  I  may  be  sorry  eneugh  that 
I  am  nae  better.  But  I  can  do  what  good  women  canna 
and  daurna  do — T  can  do  what  would  freeze  the  blood  o' 
them  that  is  bred  in  biggit  wa's  for  naething  but  to  bind 
bairns'  heads,  and  to  hap  them  in  the  cradle.  Hear  me ! 
The  guard's  drawn  off  at  the  Custom-house  at  Portan- 
ferry,  and  it's  brought  up  to  Hazlewood-House  by  your 
father's  orders,  because  he  thinks  his  house  is  to  be  attacked 
this  night  by  the  smugglers :  there's  naebody  means  to 
touch   his   house ;   he   has   gude    blood   and   gentle   blood — 


GUY    MANNERING  38.5 

I  say  little  o'  him  for  himsell.  but  there's  naebndy  thinks 
him  worth  meddlinj^  wi'.  Send  the  horsemen  back  to  their 
post,  cannily  and  quietly — see  an  they  winna  hae  wark  the 
night — aye  will  they — the  guns  will  flash  and  the  swords 
will  glitter  in  the  braw  moon.' 

'Good  God !  what  do  you  mean  ?'  said  young  Hazlewood ; 
'your  words  and  manner  would  persuade  me  you  are  mad, 
and  yet  there  is  a  strange  combination  in  what  you  say.* 

'I  am  not  mad !'  exclaimed  the  gipsy ;  'I  have  been  im- 
prisoned for  mad — scourged  for  mad — banished  for  mad — 
but  mad  I  am  not.  Hear  ye,  Charles  Hazlewood  of  Hazle- 
wood :  d'ye  bear  malice  against  him  that  wounded  you  ?' 

*No.  dame,  God  forbid !  My  arm  is  quite  well,  and  I  have 
always  said  the  shot  was  discharged  by  accident.  I  should 
be  glad  to  tell  the  young  man  so  himself.' 

'Then  do  what  I  bid  ye,'  answered  Meg  Merrilies.  'and 
ye'll  do  him  mair  gude  than  ever  he  did  you  ill;  for  if 
he  was  left  to  his  ill-wishers  he  would  be  a  bloody  corpse 
ere  morn,  or  a  banished  man — But  there's  ane  abune  a'. — 
Do  as  I  bid  you;  send  back  the  soldiers  to  Portanferry. 
There's  nae  mair  fear  o'  Hazlewood-House  than  there's  o' 
Cruffelfell/  And  she  vanished  with  her  usual  celerity  of 
pace. 

It  would  seem  that  the  appearance  of  this  female,  and 
the  mixture  of  frenzy  and  enthusiasm  in  her  manner,  seldom 
failed  to  produce  the  strongest  impression  upon  those  whom 
she  addressed.  Her  words,  though  wild,  were  too  plain  and 
intelligible  for  actual  madness,  and  yet  too  vehement  and 
extravagant  for  sober-minded  communication.  She  seemed 
acting  under  the  influence  of  an  imagination  rather  strongly 
excited  than  deranged;  and  it  is  wonderful  how  palpably  the 
difi^erencc,  in  such  cases,  is  impressed  upon  the  mind  of 
the  auditor.  This  may  account  for  the  attention  with  which 
her  strange  and  mysterious  hints  were  heard  and  acted  upon. 
It  is  certain,  at  least,  that  young  Hazlewood  was  strongly 
impressed  by  her  sudden  appearance  and  imperative  tone. 
He  rode  to  Hazlewood  at  a  brisk  pace.  It  had  been  dark 
for  some  time  before  he  reached  the  house,  and  on  his 
arrival  there,  he  saw  a  confirmation  of  what  the  sibyl  had 
hinted. 


386  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Thirty  dragoon  horses  stood  under  a  shed  near  the  offices, 
with  their  bridles  linked  together; — three  or  four  soldiers 
attended  as  a  guard,  while  others  stamped  up  and  down  with 
their  long  broadswords  and  heavy  boots  in  front  of  the 
house.  Hazlewood  asked  a  non-commissioned  officer  from 
whence  they  came?' 

'From  Portanferry.' 

'Had  they  left  any  guard  there?' 

'No ; — they  had  been  drawn  off  by  order  of  Sir  Robert 
Hazlewood  for  defence  of  his  house,  against  an  attack 
which  was  threatened  by  the  smugglers.' 

Charles  Hazlewood  instantly  went  in  quest  of  his  father, 
and,  having  paid  his  respects  to  him  upon  his  return, 
requested  to  know  upon  what  account  he  had  thought  it 
necessary  to  send  for  a  military  escort.  Sir  Robert  assured 
his  son  in  reply,  'that  from  the  information,  intelligence, 
and  tidings,  which  had  been  communicated  to  and  laid  before 
him,  he  had  the  deepest  reason  to  believe,  credit,  and  be 
convinced,  that  a  riotous  assault  would  that  night  be  at- 
tempted and  perpetrated  against  Hazlewood-House,  by  a 
set  of  smugglers,  gipsies,  and  other  desperadoes.' 

'And  what,  my  dear  sir,'  said  his  son,  'should  direct  the 
fury  of  such  persons  against  ours  rather  than  any  other 
in  the  country?' 

'I  should  rather  think,  suppose,  and  be  of  opinion,  sir,' 
answered  Sir  Robert,  'with  deference  to  your  wisdom  and 
experience,  that  on  these  occasions  and  times,  the  vengeance 
of  such  persons  is  directed  or  levelled  against  the  most 
important  and  distinguished  in  point  of  rank,  talent,  birth, 
and  situation,  who  have  checked,  interfered  with,  and  dis- 
countenanced their  unlawful  and  illegal  and  criminal  actions 
or  deeds.' 

Young  Hazlewood,  who  knew  his  father's  foible,  answered, 
'that  the  cause  of  his  surprise  did  not  lie  where  Sir  Robert 
apprehended,  but  that  he  only  wondered  they  should  think 
of  attacking  a  house  where  there  were  so  many  servants, 
and  where  a  signal  to  the  neighbouring  tenants  could  call 
in  such  strong  assistance ;'  and  added,  'that  he  doubted 
much  whether  the  reputation  of  the  family  would  not  in 
some  degree  suffer  from  calling  soldiers  from  their  duty  at 


GUY    MANNERIXG  387 

the  Custom-house  to  protect  them,  as  if  they  were  not 
sufficiently  strong  to  defend  themselves  upon  any  ordinary 
occasion.'  He  even  hinted,  'that  in  case  their  house's  ene- 
mies should  observe  that  this  precaution  had  been  taken  un- 
necessarily, there  would  be  no  end  of  their  sarcasms.' 

Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  was  rather  puzzled  at  this  intima- 
tion, for,  like  most  dull  men.  he  heartily  hated  and  feared 
ridicule.  He  gathered  himself  up,  and  looked  with  a  sort 
of  pompous  embarrassment,  as  if  he  wished  to  be  thought 
to  despise  the  opinion  of  the  public,  which  in  reality  he 
dreaded. 

'I  really  should  have  thought,'  he  said,  'that  the  injury 
which  had  already  been  aimed  at  my  house  in  your  person, 
being  the  next  heir  and  representative  of  the  Hazlewood 
family,  failing  me — T  should  have  thought  and  believed, 
I  say,  that  this  would  have  justified  me  sufficiently  in  the 
eyes  of  the  most  respectable  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
people,  for  taking  such  precautions  as  are  calculated  to 
prevent  and  impede  a  repetition  of  outrage.' 

'Really,  sir/  said  Charles.  'I  must  remind  you  of  what 
I  have  often  said  before,  that  I  am  positive  the  discharge 
of  the  piece  was  accidental.' 

'Sir,  it  was  not  accidental,'  said  his  father,  angrily; — 
'but  you  will  be  wiser  than  your  elders.' 

'Really,  sir,'  replied  Hazlewood,  "in  what  so  intimately 
concerns  myself ' 

"Sir,  it  does  not  concern  you  but  in  a  very  secondary 
degree — that  is,  it  does  not  concern  you,  as  a  giddy  young 
fellow,  who  takes  pleasure  in  contradicting  his  father;  but 
it  concerns  the  country,  sir ;  and  the  county,  sir ;  and 
the  public,  sir;  and  the  kingdom  of  Scotland,  in  so  far 
as  the  interest  of  the  Hazlewood  family,  sir,  is  committed, 
and  interested,  and  put  in  peril,  in,  by,  and  through  you, 
sir.  And  the  fellow  is  in  safe  custody,  and  Mr.  Glossin 
thinks ' 

'Mr.   Glossin,   sir?' 

'Yes,  sir,  the  gentleman  who  has  purchased  Ellangowan — 
you  know  who  I  mean,  I  suppose  ?' 

'Yes,  sir,'  answered  the  young  man ;  'but  I  should  hardly 
have   expected   to   hear   you   quote   such   authority.     Why, 


388  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

this  fellow — all  the  world  knows  him  to  be  sordid,  mean, 
tricking;  and  I  suspect  him  to  be  worse.  And  you  your- 
self, my  dear  sir,  when  did  you  call  such  a  person  a  gentle- 
man in  your  life  before?' 

'Why,  Charles,  I  did  not  mean  gentleman  in  the  precise 
sense  and  meaning,  and  restricted  and  proper  use,  to  which, 
no  doubt,  the  phrase  ought  legitimately  to  be  confined; 
but  I  meant  to  use  it  relatively,  as  marking  something  of 
that  state  to  which  he  has  elevated  and  raised  himself — as 
designing,  in  short,  a  decent  and  wealthy  and  estimable  sort 
of  a  person.' 

'Allow  me  to  ask,  sir,'  said  Charles,  'if  it  was  by  this 
man's  orders  that  the  guard  was  drawn  from  Portanferry?' 

'Sir,'  replied  the  Baronet,  'I  do  apprehend  that  Mr.  Glos- 
sin  would  not  presume  to  give  orders,  or  even  an  opinion, 
unless  asked,  in  a  matter  in  which  Hazlewood-House  and 
the  House  of  Hazlewood — meaning  by  the  one  this  man- 
sion-house of  my  family,  and  by  the  other,  typically,  meta- 
phorically, and  parabolically,  the  family  itself — I  say,  then, 
where  the  House  of  Hazlewood,  or  Hazlewood-Housq,  was 
so  immediately  concerned.' 

'I  presume,  however,  sir,'  said  the  son,  'this  Glossin  ap- 
proved  of   the   proposal?' 

'Sir,'  replied  his  father,  'I  thought  it  decent  and  right 
and  proper  to  consult  him  as  the  nearest  magistrate,  as 
soon  as  report  of  the  intended  outrage  reached  my  ears; 
and  although  he  declined,  out  of  deference  and  respect  as 
became  our  relative  situations,  to  concur  in  the  order,  yet 
he  did  entirely  approve  of  my  arrangement.' 

At  this  moment  a  horse's  feet  were  heard  coming  very 
fast  up  the  avenue.  In  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened, 
and  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  presented  himself.— 'I  am  under  great 
concern  to  intrude.   Sir  Robert,  but ' 

'Give  me  leave,  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,'  said  Sir  Robert,  with 
a  gracious  flourish  of  welcome;  'this  is  no  intrusion,  sir; — 
for  your  situation  as  Sheriff-substitute  calling  upon  you 
to  attend  to  the  peace  of  the  county  (and  you,  doubtless, 
feeling  yourself  particularly  called  upon  to  protect  Hazle- 
wood-House) you  have  an  acknowledged,  and  admitted,  and 
undeniable  right,  sir,  to  enter  the  house  of  the  first  gentle- 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  389 

man   in   Scotland,   uninvited — always   presuming  you   to  be 
called  there  by  the  duty  of  your  office.' 

'It  is  indeed  the  duty  of  my  office/  said  Mac-Morlan, 
who  waited  with  impatience  an  opportunity  to  speak,  'that 
makes  me  an  intruder.' 

'No  intrusion  !'  reiterated  the  Baronet,  gracefully  waving 
his   hand. 

'But  permit  me  to  say,  Sir  Robert/  said  the  Sheriff- 
substitute,  'I  do  not  come  with  the  purpose  of  remaining 
here,  but  to  recall  these  soldiers  to  Portanferry,  and  to 
assure  you  that  I  will  answer  for  the  safety  of  your  house.' 

'To  withdraw  the  guard  from  Hazlewood-House !'  ex- 
claimed the  proprietor  in  mingled  displeasure  and  surprise ; 
'and  yon  will  be  answerable  for  it !  And  pray,  who  are 
you,  sir,  that  I  should  take  your  security,  and  caution,  and 
pledge,  official  or  personal,  for  the  safety  of  Hazlewood- 
House? — I  think,  sir,  and  believe,  sir,  and  am  of  opinion, 
sir,  that  if  any  one  of  these  family  pictures  were  deranged, 
or  destroyed,  or  injured,  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to 
make  up  the  loss  upon  the  guarantee  w^hich  you  so  obligingly 
offer  me.' 

'In  that  case  I  shall  be  sorry  for  it.  Sir  Robert,'  answered 
the  downright  Mac-lMorlan ;  'but  I  presume  I  may  escape 
the  pain  of  feeling  my  conduct  the  cause  of  such  irreparable 
loss,  as  I  can  assure  you  there  will  be  no  attempt  ujjon 
Hazlewood-House  whatever,  and  I  have  received  informa- 
tion which  induces  me  to  suspect  that  the  rumour  was 
put  afloat  merely  in  order  to  occasion  the  removal  of  the 
soldiers  from  Portanferry.  And  under  this  strong  belief 
and  conviction.  I  must  exert  my  authority  as  sheriiif  and 
chief  magistrate  of  police,  to  order  the  whole,  or  greater 
part  of  them,  back  again.  I  regret  much,  that  by  my 
accidental  absence  a  good  deal  of  delay  has  already  taken 
place,  and  we  shall  not  now  reach  Portanferry  until  it  is 
late.' 

As  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  was  the  superior  magistrate,  and 
expressed  himself  peremptory  in  the  purpose  of  acting  as 
such,  the  Baronet,  though  highly  offended,  could  only  say, 
'Very  well,  sir,  it  is  very  well.  Nay.  sir,  take  them  all  with 
you — I  am  far  from  desiring  any  to  be  left  here,  sir.     We, 


390  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

sir,  can  protect  ourselves,  sir.    But  you  will  have  the  good- 
ness to  observe,  sir,  that  you  are  acting  on  your  own  proper 
risk,  sir,  and  peril,  sir,  and  responsibility,  sir,   if   anything         J 
shall   happen   or   befall    to    Hazlewood-House,    sir,   or   the         " 
inhabitants,  sir,  or  to  the  furniture  and  paintings,  sir.' 

'I  am  acting  to  the  best  of  my  judgment  and  information. 
Sir  Robert,'  said  Mac-Morlan,  'and  I  must  pray  of  you  to 
believe  so,  and  to  pardon  me  accordingly.  I  beg  you  to 
observe  it  is  no  time  for  ceremony — it  is  already  very  late.' 

But  Sir  Robert,  without  deigning  to  listen  to  his  apologies, 
immediately  employed  himself  with  much  parade  in  arming 
and  arraying  his  domestics.  Charles  Hazlewood  longed  to 
accompany  the  military,  which  were  about  to  depart  for 
Portanferry,  and  which  were  now  drawn  up  and  mounted 
by  direction  and  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Mac-Morlan, 
as  the  civil  magistrate.  But  it  would  have  given  just  pain 
and  offence  to  his  father  to  have  left  him  at  a  moment 
when  he  conceived  himself  and  his  mansion-house  in  danger. 
Young  Hazlewood  therefore  gazed  from  a  window  with 
suppressed  regret  and  displeasure,  until  he  heard  the  officer 
give  the  word  of  command  'From  the  right  to  the  front, 
by  files,  m-a-rch.  Leading  file,  to  the  right  wheel — Trot.' — 
The  whole  party  of  soldiers  then  getting  into  a  sharp  and 
uniform  pace,  were  soon  lost  among  the  trees,  and  the  noise 
of  the  hoofs  died  speedily  away  in  the  distance. 


1 


CHAPTER    XLVIII 

Wi'  coulters  and   wi'   forehammers 

We  garr'd  the  bars  bang  merrily, 
Until  we  came  to  the  inner  prison. 

Where  Willie  o'   Kinmont  he  did  lie. 

Old  Border  Ballad. 

WE  return  to  Portanferry,  and  to  Bertram  and  his 
honest-hearted  friend,  whom  we  left  most  innocent 
inhabitants  of  a  place  built  for  the  guilty.  The 
slumbers  of  the  farmer  were  as  sound  as  it  was  possible. 

But  Bertram's  first  heavy  sleep  passed  away  long  before 
midnight,  nor  could  he  again  recover  that  state  of  oblivion. 
Added  to  the  uncertain  and  uncomfortable  state  of  his  mind, 
his  body  felt  feverish  and  oppressed.  This  was  chiefly 
owing  to  the  close  and  confined  air  of  the  small  apartment 
in  which  they  slept.  After  enduring  for  some  time  the 
broiling  and  suffocating  feeling  attendant  upon  such  an  at- 
mosphere, he  rose  to  endeavour  to  open  the  window  of  the 
apartment,  and  thus  to  procure  a  change  of  air.  Alas !  the 
first  trial  reminded  him  that  he  was  in  jail,  and  that  the 
building  being  contrived  for  security,  not  comfort,  the  means 
of  procuring  fresh  air  w-^re  not  left  at  the  disposal  of  the 
wretched  inhabitants. 

Disappointed  in  this  attempt,  he  stood  by  the  unmanage- 
able window  for  some  time.  Little  Wasp,  though  oppressed 
with  the  fatigue  of  his  journey  on  the  preceding  day,  crept 
out  of  bed  after  his  master,  and  stood  by  him  rubbing  his 
shaggy  coat  against  his  legs,  and  expressing,  by  a  murmur- 
ing sound,  the  delight  which  he  felt  at  being  restored  to  him. 
Thus  accompanied,  and  waiting  until  the  feverish  feeling 
which  at  present  agitated  his  blood  should  subside  into  a 
desire  for  warmth  and  slumber,  Bertram  remained  for  some 
time  looking  out  upon  the  sea. 

The  tide  was  now  nearly  full,  and  dashed  hoarse  and 
near,  below  the  base  of  the  building.  Xow  and  then 
a   large   wave  reached  even   the   barrier   or  bulwark   which 

391 


393  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

defended  the  foundation  of  the  house,  and  was  flung  upon 
it  with  greater  force  and  noise  than  those  which  only 
broke  upon  the  sand.  Far  in  the  distance,  under  the  indis- 
tinct light  of  a  hazy  and  often  over-clouded  moon,  the  ocean 
rolled  its  multitudinous  complication  of  waves,  crossing, 
bursting,  and  mingling  with  each  other. 

"A  wild  and  dim  spectacle,"  said  Bertram  to  himself, 
'like  those  crossing  tides  of  fate  which  have  tossed  me  about 
the  world  from  my  infancy  upwards !  When  will  this 
uncertainty  cease,  and  how  soon  shall  I  be  permitted  to 
look  out  for  a  tranquil  home  where  I  may  cultivate  in 
quiet,  and  without  dread  and  perplexity,  those  arts  of 
peace  from  which  my  cares  have  been  hitherto  so  forcibly 
diverted?  The  ear  of  Fancy,  it  is  said,  can  discover  the 
voice  of  sea-nymphs  and  tritons  amid  the  bursting  murmurs 
of  the  ocean ;  would  that  T  could  do  so,  and  that  some 
siren  or  Proteus  would  arise  from  these  billows,  to  unriddle 
for  me  the  strange  maze  of  fate  in  which  I  am  so  deeply 
entangled ! — Happy  friend !'  he  said,  looking  at  the  bed 
where  Dinmont  had  deposited  his  bulky  person,  'thy  cares 
are  confined  to  the  narrow  round  of  a  healthy  and  thriving 
occupation ! — thou  canst  lay  them  aside  at  pleasure,  and 
enjoy  the  deep  repose  of  body  and  mind  which  wholesome 
labour  has  prepared  for  thee !' 

At  this  moment  his  reflections  were  broken  by  little  Wasp, 
who,  attempting  to  spring  up  against  the  window,  began  to 
yelp  and  bark  most  furiously.  The  sounds  reached  Dinmont's 
ears,  but  without  dissipating  the  illusion  which  had  trans- 
ported him  from  this  wretched  apartment  to  the  free  air  of 
his  own  green  hills.  'Hoy,  Yarrow,  man  ! — far  yaud — far 
yaud !'  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  imagining,  doubtless, 
that  he  was  calling  to  his  sheep-dog,  and  hounding  him  in 
shepherds'  phrase  against  some  intruders  on  the  grazing. 
The  continued  barking  of  the  terrier  within  was  answered 
by  the  angry  challenge  of  the  mastiff  in  the  courtyard,  which 
had  for  a  long  time  been  silent,  excepting  only  an  occasional 
short  and  deep  note,  uttered  when  the  moon  shone  suddenly 
from  among  the  clouds.  Now,  his  clamour  was  continued 
and  furious,  and  seemed  to  be  excited  by  some  disturbance 
distinct   from  the  barking  of  Wasp,  which  had  first  given 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  393 

him  the  alarm,  and  which,  with  much  trouble,  his  master  had 
contrived  to  still  into  an  angry  note  of  low  growling. 

At  last  Bertram,  whose  attention  was  now  fully  awakened, 
conceived  that  he  saw  a  boat  upon  the  sea,  and  heard  in 
good  earnest  the  sound  of  oars  and  of  human  voices  min- 
gling with  the  dash  of  the  billows.  'Some  benighted  fisher- 
men," he  thought,  'or  perhaps  some  of  the  desperate  traders 
from  the  Isle  of  Man.  They  are  very  hardy,  however,  to 
approach  so  near  to  the  Custom-house,  where  there  must  be 
sentinels.  It  is  a  large  boat,  like  a  long-boat,  and  full  of 
people ;  perhaps  it  belongs  to  the  revenue  service.'  Bertram 
was  confirmed  in  this  last  opinion,  by  observing  that  the  boat 
made  for  a  little  quay  which  ran  into  the  sea  behind  the 
Custom-house,  and.  jumping  ashore  one  after  another,  the 
crew,  to  the  number  of  twenty  hands,  glided  secretly  up  a 
small  lane  which  divided  the  Custom-house  from  the  Bride- 
well, and  disappeared  from  his  sight,  leaving  only  two  per- 
sons to  take  care  of  the  boat. 

The  dash  of  these  men's  oars  at  first,  and  latterly  the  sup- 
pressed sounds  of  their  voices,  had  excited  the  wrath  of  the 
wakeful  sentinel  in  the  courtyard,  who  now  exalted  his  deep 
voice  into  such  a  horrid  and  continuous  din,  that  it  awakened 
his  brute  master,  as  savage  a  ban-dog  as  himself.  His  cry 
from  a  window,  of  'How  now,  Tearum.  what's  the  matter, 
sir? — down,  d — n  ye!  down!'  produced  no  abatement  of 
Tearum's  vociferation,  which  in  part  prevented  his  master 
from  hearing  the  sounds  cf  alarm  which  his  ferocious  vigi- 
lance was  in  the  act  of  challenging.  But  the  mate  of  the  two- 
legged  Cerberus  was  gifted  with  sharper  ears  than  her  hus- 
band. She  also  was  now  at  the  window — 'B — t  ye,  gae  down 
and  let  loose  the  dog,'  she  said ;  'they're  sporting  the  door  of 
the  Custom-house,  and  the  auld  sap  at  Hazlewood-House  has 
ordered  off  the  guard.  But  ye  hae  nae  mair  heart  than  a  cat.' 
And  down  the  Amazon  sallied  to  perform  the  task  herself, 
while  her  helpmate,  more  jealous  of  insurrection  within 
doors,  than  of  storm  from  without,  went  from  cell  to  cell  to 
see  that  the  inhabitants  of  each  were  carefully  secured. 

These  latter  sounds,  with  which  we  have  made  the  reader 
acquainted,  had  their  origin  in  front  of  the  house,  and  were 
consequently  imperfectly   heard  by   Bertram,   whose   apart- 


39-1  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

ment,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  looked  from  the  back  part 
of  the  building  upon  the  sea.  He  heard,  however,  a  stir  and 
tumult  in  the  house,  which  did  not  seem  to  accord  with  the 
stern  seclusion  of  a  prison  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  and, 
connecting  them  with  the  arrival  of  an  armed  boat  at  that 
dead  hour,  could  not  but  suppose  that  something  extraor- 
dinary was  about  to  take  place.  In  this  belief  he  shook 
Dinmont  by  the  shoulder — 'Eh  ! — Aye  ! — Oh  ! — Ailie,  woman, 
it's  no  time  to  get  up  yet,'  groaned  the  sleeping  man  of  the 
mountains.  More  roughly  shaken,  however,  he  gathered  him- 
self up.  shook  his  ears,  and  asked,  'In  the  name  of  Providence, 
what's  the  matter?' 

"That  I  can't  tell  you,'  replied  Bertram;  'but  either  the 
place  is  on  fire,  or  some  extraordinary  thing  is  about  to 
happen.  Are  you  not  sensible  of  a  smell  of  fire?  Do  you 
not  hear  what  a  noise  there  is  of  clashing  doors  within  the 
house,  and  of  hoarse  voices,  murmurs,  and  distant  shouts 
on  the  outside?  Upon  my  word,  I  believe  something  very 
extraordinary  has  taken  place. — Get  up,  for  the  love  of 
Heaven,  and  let  us  be  on  our  guard.' 

Dinmont  rose  at  the  idea  of  danger,  as  intrepid  and  un- 
dismayed as  any  of  his  ancestors  when  the  beacon-light  was 
kindled.  'Od,  Captain,  this  is  a  queer  place ! — they  winna 
let  ye  out  in  the  day,  and  they  winna  let  ye  sleep  in  the 
night.  Deil,  but  it  wad  break  my  heart  in  a  fortnight.  But 
Lordsake,  what  a  racket  they're  making  now ! — Od'  I  wish 
we  had  some  light. — Wasp — Wasp,  whisht,  hinney — whisht, 
my  bonnie  man.  and  let's  hear  what  they're  doing. — Deil's 
in  ye,  will  ye  whisht?' 

They  sought  in  vain  among  the  embers  the  means  of  light- 
ing their  candle,  and  the  noise  without  still  continued.  Din- 
mont in  his  turn  had  recourse  to  the  window — 'Lordsake, 
Captain  !  come  here.    Od,  they  hae  broken  the  Customhouse !' 

Bertram  hastened  to  the  window,  and  plainly  saw  a  mis- 
cellaneous crowd  of  smugglers,  and  blackguards  of  different 
descriptions,  some  carrying  lighted  torches,  others  bearing 
packages  and  barrels  down  the  lane  to  the  boat  that  was 
lying  at  the  quay,  to  which  two  or  three  other  fisher-boatS 
were  now  brought  round.  They  were  loading  each  of  these 
in  their  turn,  and  one  or  two  had  already  put  off  to  seaward. 


GUY    MAKNERING  395 

This  speaks  for  itself,'  said  Bertram ;  'but  I  fear  something 
worse  has  happened.  Do  you  perceive  a  strong  smell  of 
smoke,  or  is  it  my  fancy?' 

Taney  ?'  answered  Dinmont — 'there's  a  reek  like  a  killogie. 
Od,  if  they  burn  the  Custom-house,  it  will  catch  here,  and 
we'll  lunt  like  a  tar-barrel  a'  thegither. — Eh !  it  wad  be  fear- 
some to  be  burnt  alive  for  naething.  like  as  if  ane  had  been 
a  warlock  ! — Mac-Guffog,  hear  ye  !' — roaring  at  the  top  of 
his  voice; — 'an  ye  wad  ever  hae  a  haill  bane  in  your  skin, 
let's  out,  man !  let's  out !' 

The  fire  began  now  to  rise  high,  and  thick  clouds  of  smoke 
rolled  past  the  window  at  which  Bertram  and  Dinmont  were 
stationed.  Sometimes,  as  the  wind  pleased,  the  dim  shroud 
of  vapour  hid  everything  from  their  sight;  sometimes,  a 
red  glare  illuminated  both  land  and  sea,  and  shone  full  on 
the  stern  and  fierce  figures,  who,  wild  with  ferocious  activity, 
were  engaged  in  loading  the  boats.  The  fire  was  at  length 
triumphant,  and  spouted  in  jets  of  flame  out  at  each  window 
of  the  burning  building,  while  huge  flakes  of  flaming  ma- 
terials came  driving  on  the  wind  against  the  adjoining  prison, 
and  rolling  a  dark  canopy  of  smoke  over  all  the  neighbour- 
hood. The  shouts  of  a  furious  mob  resounded  far  and  wide ; 
for  the  smugglers,  in  their  triumph,  were  joined  by  all  the 
rabble  of  the  little  town  and  neighbourhood,  now  aroused, 
and  in  complete  agitation,  notwithstanding  the  lateness  of 
the  hour ;-  -some  from  interest  in  the  free  trade,  and  most 
from  the  general  love  of  mischief  and  tumult,  natural  to  a 
vulgar  populace. 

Bertram  began  to  be  seriously  anxious  for  their  fate. 
There  was  no  stir  in  the  house;  it  seemed  as  if  the  jailor 
had  deserted  his  charge,  and  left  the  prison  with  its  wretched 
inhabitants  to  the  mercy  of  the  conflagration  which  was 
spreading  towards  them.  In  the  meantime  a  new  and  fierce 
attack  was  heard  upon  the  outer  gate  of  the  Correction- 
house,  which,  battered  with  sledge-hammers  and  crows,  was 
soon  forced.  The  keeper,  as  great  a  coward  as  a  bully, 
with  his  more  ferocious  wife,  had  fled;  their  servants  readily 
surrendered  the  keys.  The  liberated  prisoners,  celebrating 
their  dehverance  with  the  wildest  yells  of  joy,  mingled 
among  the  mob  which  had  given  them  freedom. 

D— 14 


396  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  that  ensued,  three  or  four 
of  the  principal  smugglers  hurried  to  the  apartment  of  Ber- 
tram with  lighted  torches,  and  armed  with  cutlasses  and 
pistols. — 'Der  deyvil,"  said  the  leader,  'here's  our  mark !' 
and  two  of  them  seized  on  Bertram;  but  one  whispered  in 
his  ear,  'Make  no  resistance  till  you  are  in  the  street.'  The 
same  individual  found  an  instant  to  say  to  Dinmont — 'Fol- 
low your  friend,  and  help  when  you  see  the  time  come.' 

In  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  Dinmont  obeyed  and  fol- 
lowed close.  The  two  smugglers  dragged  Bertram  along  the 
passage,  downstairs,  through  the  courtyard,  now  illuminated 
by  the  glare  of  fire,  and  into  the  narrow  street  to  which  the 
gate  opened,  where,  in  the  confusion,  the  gang  were  neces- 
sarily in  some  degrees  separated  from  each  other.  A  rapid 
noise,  as  of  a  body  of  horse  advancing,  seemed  to  add  to 
the  disturbance.  'Hagel  and  wetter!  what  is  that?'  said  the 
leader ;  'keep  together,  kinder — look  to  the  prisoner.'  But 
in  spite  of  his  charge,  the  two  who  held  Bertram  were  the 
last  of  the  party. 

The  sounds  and  signs  of  violence  were  heard  in  front. 
The  press  became  furiously  agitated,  while  some  endeav- 
oured to  defend  themselves,  others  to  escape;  shots  were 
fired,  and  the  glittering  broadswords  of  the  dragoons  began 
to  appear  flashing  above  the  heads  of  the  rioters.  'Now/ 
said  the  warning  whisper  of  the  man  who  held  Bertram's 
left  arm,  the  same  who  had  spoken  before,  'shake  off  that 
fellow,  and  follow  me.' 

Bertram,  exerting  his  strength  suddenly  and  effectually, 
easily  burst  from  the  grasp  of  the  man  who  held  his  collar 
on  the  right  side.  The  fellow  attempted  to  draw  a  pistol, 
but  was  prostrated  by  a  blow  of  Dinmont's  fist,  which  an 
ox  could  hardly  have  received  without  the  same  humiliation. 
'Follow  me  quick,'  said  the  friendly  partisan,  and  dived 
through  a  very  narrow  and  dirty  lane  which  led  from  the 
main  street. 

No  pursuit  took  place.  The  attention  of  the  smugglers 
had  been  otherwise  and  very  disagreeably  engaged  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Mac-Morlan  and  the  party  of  horse. 
The  loud  manly  voice  of  the  provincial  magistrate,  was 
heard    proclaiming    the    riot   act,    and    charging    'all    those 


GUY    MANNERIXG  397 

unlawfully  assembled,  to  disperse  at  their  own  proper  peril.* 
This  interruption  would  indeed  have  happened  in  time 
sufficient  to  have  prevented  the  attempt,  had  not  the  magis- 
trate received  upon  the  road  some  false  information,  which 
led  him  to  think  that  the  smugglers  were  to  land  at  the 
Bay  of  Ellangowan.  Nearly  two  hours  were  lost  in  con- 
sequence of  this  false  intelligence,  which  it  may  be  no  lack 
of  charity  to  suppose  that  Glossin,  so  deeply  interested  in 
the  issue  of  that  night's  daring  attempt,  had  contrived  to 
throw  in  Mac-Morlan's  way,  availing  himself  of  the 
knowledge  that  the  soldiers  had  left  Hazlewood-House, 
which  would  soon  reach  an  ear  so  anxious  as  his. 

In  the  meantime,  Bertram  followed  his  guide,  and  was 
in  his  turn  followed  by  Dinmont.  The  shouts  of  the  mob, 
the  trampling  of  the  horses,  the  dropping  pistol-shots,  sunk 
more  and  more  faintly  upon  their  ears;  when  at  the  end 
of  the  dark  lane  they  found  a  post-chaise  with  four  horses. 
'Are  you  here,  in  God's  name?'  said  the  guide  to  the 
postilion  who  drove  the  leaders. 

'Aye,  troth  am  I,'  answered  Jock  Jabos,  'and  I  wish  I 
were  ony  gate  else.' 

'Open  the  carriage,  then — You,  gentlemen,  get  into  it ; — ■ 
in  a  short  time  you'll  be  in  a  place  of  safety — and'  (to 
Bertram)  'remember  your  promise  to  the  gipsy  wife !' 

Bertram,  resolving  to  be  passive  in  the  hands  of  a  person 
who  had  just  rendered  him  such  a  distinguished  piece  of 
service,  got  into  the  chaise  as  directed.  Dinmont  followed ; 
Wasp,  who  had  kept  close  by  them,  sprung  in  at  the  same 
time,  and  the  carriage  drove  off  very  fast.  'Have  a  care  o' 
me,'  said  Dinmont.  'but  this  is  the  queerest  thing  yet ! 
— Od,  I  trust  they'll  no  coup  us — and  then  what's  to  come 
o'  Dumple !  I  would  rather  be  on  his  back  than  in  the 
Deuke's  coach,  God  bless  him.' 

Bertram  observed,  that  they  could  not  go  at  that  rapid 
rate  to  any  very  great  distance  without  changing  horses,  and 
that  they  might  insist  upon  remaining  till  daylight  at  the 
first  inn  they  stopped  at,  or  at  least  upon  being  made 
acquainted  with  the  purpose  and  termination  of  their  jour- 
ney, and  Mr.  Dinmont  might  there  give  directions  about 
his  faithful  horse,   which   would   probably  be   safe  at  the 


398  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

stables  where  he  had  left  him. — 'Aweel.  aweel,  e'en  sae 
be  it  for  Dandie. — Od,  if  we  were  ance  out  o'  this  trindling 
kist  o'  a  thing,  I  am  thinking  they  wad  find  it  hard  work 
to  gar  us  gang  ony  gate  but  where  we  liked  oursells.' 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  carriage  making  a  sudden  turn, 
showed  them,  through  the  left  window,  the  village  at  some 
distance,  still  widely  beaconed  by  the  fire,  which,  having 
reached  a  storehouse  wherein  spirits  were  deposited,  now 
rose  high  into  the  air,  a  wavering  column  of  brilliant  light. 
They  had  not  long  time  to  admire  this  spectacle,  for 
another  turn  of  the  road  carried  them  into  a  close  lane 
between  plantations,  through  which  the  chaise  proceeded 
in  nearly  total  darkness,  but  with  unabated  speed. 


CHAPTER    Xl.rX 

The  night  drave  on  wi'  sangs  and  clatter, 
And   ay   the  ale   was  growing  better. 

Tain  o'  Shn liter. 

WE  must  now  return  to  Woodbourne,  which,  it  may 
be  remembered,  we  left  just  after  the  Colonel  had 
given  some  directions  to  his  confidential  servant. 
When  he  returned,  his  absence  of  mind,  and  an  unusual 
expression  of  thought  and  anxiety  upon  his  features,  struck 
the  ladies  whom  he  joined  in  the  drawing-room.  Mannering 
was  not,  however,  a  man  to  be  questioned,  even  by  those 
whom  he  most  loved,  upon  the  cause  of  the  mental  agita- 
tion which  these  signs  expressed.  The  hour  of  tea  arrived, 
and  the  party  were  partaking  of  that  refreshment  in  silence, 
when  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  and  the  bell  an- 
nounced the  arrival  of  a  visitor.  'Surely,'  said  Mannering, 
'it  is  too  soon  by  some  hours — .' 

There  was  a  short  pause,  when  Barnes,  opening  the  door 
of  the  saloon,  aimounced  Mr.  Pleydell.  In  marched  the 
lawyer,  whose  well-brushed  black  coat,  and  well-pov/dered 
wig,  together  with  his  point  ruffles,  brown  silk  stockings, 
highly  varnished  shoes,  and  gold  buckles,  exhibited  the 
pains  which  the  old  gentleman  had  taken  to  prepare  his 
person  for  the  ladies'  society.  He  was  welcomed  by  Man- 
nering with  a  hearty  shake  by  the  hand — 'The  very  man  I 
wished  to  see  at  this  moment !' 

'Yes,'  said  the  counsellor,  l  told  you  I  would  take  the 
first  opportunity ;  so  I  have  ventured  to  leave  the  Court  for 
a  week  in  session  time — no  common  sacrifice — but  T  had 
a  notion  I  could  be  useful,  and  I  was  to  attend  a  proof  here 
about  the  same  time.  But  will  you  not  introduce  me  to 
the  young  ladies? — Ah.  there  is  one  I  should  have  known 
at  once,  from  her  family  likeness !  Miss  Lucy  Bertram, 
my  love,  I  am  most  happy  to  see  you.' — And  he  folded 
her  in  his  arms,  and  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss  on  each  side 

399 


400  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

of  the  face,  to  which  Lucy  submitted  in  blushing  resig- 
nation. 

'On  n'arrcte  pas  dans  un  si  beau  chemin/  continued  the 
gay  old  gentleman,  and,  as  the  Colonel  presented  him  to 
Julia,  took  the  same  liberty  with  that  fair  lady's  cheek. 
Julia  laughed,  coloured,  and  disengaged  herself.  'I  beg 
a  thousand  pardons,'  said  the  lawyer,  with  a  bow  which 
was  not  at  all  professionally  awkward; — 'age  and  old 
fashions  give  privileges,  and  I  can  hardly  say  whether  I  am 
most  sorry  just  now  at  being  too  well  entitled  to  claim 
them  at  all,  or  happy  in  having  such  an  opportunity  to 
exercise  them  so  agreeably.' 

'Upon  my  word,  sir,'  said  Miss  Mannering,  laughing, 
'if  you  make  such  flattering  apologies,  we  shall  begin  to 
doubt  whether  we  can  admit  you  to  shelter  yourself  under 
your  alleged  qualifications.' 

'I  can  assure  you,  Julia,'  said  the  Colonel,  'you  are  per- 
fectly right ;  my  friend  the  counsellor  is  a  dangerous  person ; 
the  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him,  he  was 
closeted  with  a  fair  lady,  who  had  granted  him  a  tcte-a-tcte 
at  eight  in  the  morning.' 

'Aye,  but  Colonel,'  said  the  counsellor,  'you  should  add, 
I  was  more  indebted  to  my  chocolate  than  my  charms  for 
so  distinguished  a  favour,  from  a  person  of  such  propriety 
of  demeanour  as  Mrs.  Rebecca.' 

'And  that  should  remind  me,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  said  Julia, 
'to  offer  you  tea — that  is,  supposing  you  have  dined.' 

'Anything,  Miss  Mannering,  from  your  hands,'  answered 
the  gallant  jurisconsult;  'yes,  I  have  dined — that  is  to  say, 
as  people  dine  at  a  Scotch  inn.' 

'And  that  is  indifferently  enough,'  said  the  Colonel,  with 
his  hand  upon  the  bell-handle; — 'give  me  leave  to  order 
something.'  , 

'Why,  to  say  truth,  replied  Mr.  Pleydell,  'I  had  rather 
not;  I  have  been  inquiring  into  that  matter,  for  you  must 
know  I  stopped  an  instant  below  to  pull  off  my  boot-hose, 
"a  world  too  wide  for  my  shrunk  shanks,"  '  glancing  down 
with  some  complacency  upon  limbs  which  looked  very  well 
for  his  time  of  life,  'and  I  had  some  conversation  with  your 
Barnes,  and  a  very  intelligent  person  whom  I  presume  to  be 


GUY    MANNERING  401 

the  housekeeper ;  and  it  was  settled  among  us — tota  re  per- 
specta — I  beg  Miss  Mannering's  pardon  for  my  Latin— 
that  the  old  lady  should  add  to  your  light  family-supper  the 
more  substantial  refreshment  of  a  brace  of  wild  ducks.  I 
told  her  (always  under  deep  submission)  my  poor  thoughts 
about  the  sauce,  which  concurred  exactly  with  her  own ; 
and,  if  you  please,  I  would  rather  wait  till  they  are  ready 
before  eating  anything  solid.' 

'And  we  will  anticipate  our  usual  hour  of  supper,'  said 
the  Colonel. 

'With  all  my  heart,'  said  Pleydell,  'providing  I  do  not 
lose  the  ladies'  company  a  moment  the  sooner.  I  am  of 
counsel  with  my  old  friend  Burnet,^  I  love  the  coena,  the 
supper  of  the  ancients,  the  pleasant  meal  and  social  glass 
that  wash  out  of  one's  mind  the  cobwebs  that  business  or 
gloom  have  been  spinning  in  our  brains  all  day.' 

The  vivacity  of  Mr.  Pleydell's  look  and  manner,  and  the 
quietness  with  which  he  made  himself  at  home  on  the  sub- 
ject of  his  little  epicurean  comforts,  amused  the  ladies, 
but  particularly  Miss  Mannering,  who  immediately  gave  the 
counsellor  a  great  deal  of  flattering  attention ;  and  more 
pretty  things  were  said  on  both  sides  during  the  service  of 
the  tea-table  than  we  have  leisure  to  repeat. 

As  soon  as  this  was  over.  Mannering  led  the  counsellor 
by  the  arm  into  a  small  study  which  opened  from  the  saloon, 
and  where,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  family,  there 
were  always  lights  and  a  good  fire  in  the  evening. 

'I  see.'  said  Mr.  Pleydell.  'you  have  got  something  to 
tell    me    about    the    Ellangowan    business — Is    it    terrestrial 

*  The  Burnet,  whose  taste  for  the  evening  meal  of  the  ancients  is 
quoted  by  Mr.  Pleydell,  was  the  celebrated  metaphysician  and  excellent 
man,  Lord  Monboddo,  whose  cocnac  will  not  be  soon  forgotten  by  those 
who  have  shared  his  classic  hospitality.  As  a  Scottish  Judge,  he  took 
the  desiRnation  of  his  family  estate.  His  philosophy,  as  is  well  known. 
was  of  a  fanciful  and  somewhat  fantastic  character;  but  his  learning  was 
deep,  and  he  was  possessed  of  a  singular  power  of  eloquence,  which  re- 
minded the  hearer  of  the  os  rotundum  of  the  Grove  or  Academe.  Kn- 
thusiastically  partial  to  classic  habits,  his  entertainments  were  always 
given  in  the  evening,  when  there  wps  a  circulation  of  excellent  Bourdeaux, 
in  flasks  garlanded  with  roses,  which  were  also  strewed  on  the  table  after 
the  manner  of  Horace.  The  best  society,  whether  in  respect  of  rank  or 
literary  distinction,  was  always  to  be  found  in  St.  John's  Street.  Canon- 
gate.  The  conversation  of  the  excellent  old  man,  his  high,  gentlemanlike 
and  chivalrous  spirit,  the  learning  and  wit  with  which  he  defended  his 
fanciful  paradoxes,  and  the  kind  and  liberal  spirit  of  his  hospitality,  must 
render  these  nodes  coevacque  dear  to  all  who,  like  the  author  (tliough 
then  young),  had  the  honour  of  sitting  at  his  board. 


403  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

or  celestial?  What  says  my  military  Albumazar?  Have 
you  calculated  the  course  of  futurity?  have  you  consulted 
your  Ephemerides,  your  Almochoden,  your  Almuten?' 

'No,  truly,  counsellor,'  replied  Mannering — 'you  are  the 
only  Ptolemy  I  intend  to  resort  to  upon  the  present  occasion. 
A  second  Prospero,  I  have  broken  my  staff,  and  drowned 
my  book  far  beyond  plummet  depth.  But  I  have  great 
news  notwithstanding.  Meg  Merrilies,  our  Egyptian  sibyl, 
has  appeared  to  the  Dominie  this  very  day,  and,  as  I  con- 
jecture, has  frightened  the  honest  man  not  a  little.' 

'Indeed  ?' 

'Aye,'  and  she  has  done  me  the  honour  to  open  a  corre- 
spondence with  me,  supposing  me  to  be  as  deep  in  astrolog- 
ical mysteries  as  when  we  first  met.  Here  is  her  scroll, 
delivered  to  me  by  the  Dominie.' 

Pleydell  put  on  his  spectacles. — 'A  vile  greasy  scrawl,  in- 
deed— and  the  letters  are  uncial  or  semi-uncial,  as  somebody 
calls  your  large  text  hand,  and  in  size  and  perpendicularity 
resemble  the  ribs  of  a  roasted  pig — I  can  hardly  make  it  out.' 

'Read  aloud,'  said  Mannering. 

'I  will  try,'  answered  the  lawyer. 

'"You  are  a  good  seeker,  but  a  bad  finder;  you  set  yourself  to  prop 
a  falling  house,  but  had  a  gey  guess  it  would  rise  again.  Lend 
your  hand  to  the  wark  that's  near,  as  you  lent  your  ee  to  the  iveird 
that  zvas  far.  Have  a  carriage  this  night  by  ten  o'clock,  at  the  end 
of  the  Crooked  Dykes  at  Portanferry,  and  let  it  bring  the  folk  to 
Woodbourne  that  shall  ask  them,  if  they  be  there  IN  God's  name." 

Stay,  here  follows  some  poetry — 

.    -      "Dark  shall  be  light, 

And  zvrong  done  to  right, 

When  Bertram's  right  and  Bertram's  might 

Shall  meet  07i   Ellangoivan's   height." 

A  most  mystic  epistle  truly,  and  closes  in  a  vein  of  poetry 
worthy  of  the  Cumaean  sibyl. — And  what  have  you  done?' 
'Why,'  said  Mannering,  rather  reluctantly,  'I  was  loath 
to  risk  any  opportunity  of  throwing  light  on  this  business. 
The  woman  is  perhaps  crazed,  and  these  effusions  may 
arise  only  from  visions  of  her  imagination; — but  you  were 
of  opinion  that  she  knew  more  of  that  strange  story  than 
she  ever  told.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  403 

'And  so,'  said  Pleydell,  'you  sent  a  carriage  to  the  place 
named  ?' 

'You  will  laugh  at  me  if  I  own  I  did,'  replied  the  Colonel. 

'Who,  I?'  replied  the  advocate — 'No,  truly;  I  think  it 
was  the  wisest  thing  you  could  do.' 

'Yes,'  answered  Mannering,  well  pleased  to  have  escaped 
the  ridicule  he  apprehended ;  'you  know  the  worst  is  paying 
the  chaise-hire : — I  sent  a  post-chaise  and  four  from  Kipple- 
tringan,  with  instructions  corresponding  to  the  letter.  The 
horses  will  have  a  long  and  cold  station  on  the  outposts 
to-night  if  our  intelligence  be  false.' 

'Aye,  but  I  think  it  will  prove  otherwise,'  said  the  lawyer. 
'This  woman  has  played  a  part  till  she  believes  it;  or,  if 
she  be  a  thorough-paced  imposter  without  a  single  grain 
of  self-delusion  to  qualify  her  knavery,  still  she  may  think 
herself  bound  to  act  in  character.  This  I  know,  that  I 
could  get  nothing  out  of  her  by  the  common  modes  of 
interrogation,  and  the  wisest  thing  we  can  do  is  to  give 
her  an  opportunity  of  making  the  discovery  her  own  way. 
And  now  have  you  more  to  say,  or  shall  we  go  to  the  ladies?' 

'Why,  my  mind  is  uncommonly  agitated,'  answered  the 
Colonel,  'and — but  I  really  have  no  more  to  say — only  I 
shall  count  the  minutes  till  the  carriage  returns;  but  you 
cannot  be  expected  to  be  so  anxious.' 

'Why,  no — use  is  all  in  all,'  said  the  more  experienced 
lawyer.  'I  am  much  interested,  certainly,  but  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  survive  the  interval,  if  the  ladies  will  aftord  us 
some  music' 

'And  with  the  assistance  of  the  wild  ducks  by  and  by?' 
suggested  Mannering. 

'True,  Colonel;  a  lawyer's  anxiety  about  the  fate  of  the 
most  interesting  cause  has  seldom  spoiled  either  his  sleep 
or  digestion."  And  yet  I  shall  be  very  eager  to  hear  the 
rattle  of  these  wheels  on  their  return,  notwithstanding.* 

So  saying,  he  rose  and  led  the  way  into  the  next  room, 
where  Miss  Mannering,  at  his  request,  took  her  seat  at 
the  harpsichord.  Lucy  Bertram,  who  sung  her  native  melo- 
dies very  sweetly,  was  accompanied  by  her  friend  upon  the 
instrument,  and  Julia  afterwards  performed  some  of  Scar- 
latti's   sonatas    with    great    brilliancy.      The    old    lawyer. 


404  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

scraping  a  little  upon  the  violoncello,  and  being  a  member 
of  the  gentlemen's  concert  in  Edinburgh,  was  so  greatly 
delighted  with  this  mode  of  spending  the  evening,  that  I 
doubt  if  he  once  thought  of  the  wild  ducks  until  Barnes 
informed  the  company  that  supper  was  ready. 

'Tell  Mrs.  Allan  to  have  something  in  readiness,'  said 
the  Colonel — 'I  expect — that  is,  I  hope — perhaps  some 
company  may  be  here  to-night ;  and  let  the  men  sit  up,  and 
do  not  lock  the  upper  gate  on  the  lawn  until  I  desire  you.' 

'Lord,  sir,'  said  Julia,  'whom  can  you  possibly  expect 
to-night  ?' 

'Why,  some  persons,  strangers  to  me,  talked  of  calling 
in  the  evening  on  business,'  answered  her  father,  not  with- 
out embarrassment,  for  he  would  little  have  brooked  a  dis- 
appointment which  might  have  thrown  ridicule  on  his  judge- 
ment; 'it  is  quite  uncertain.' 

'Well,  we  shall  not  pardon  them  for  disturbing  our  party,' 
said  Julia,  'unless  they  bring  as  much  good  humour,  and 
as  susceptible  hearts,  as  my  friend  and  admirer — for  so 
he  has  dubbed  himself — Mr.  Pleydell.' 

'Ah,  Miss  Julia,'  said  Pleydell,  offering  his  arm  with  an 
air  of  gallantry  to  conduct  her  into  the  eating-room,  'the 
time  has  been — when  I  returned  from  Utrecht  in  the  year 

1 738-' 

'Pray,  don't  talk  of  it,'  answered  the  young  lady — 'we 
like  you  much  better  as  you  are.  Utrecht,  in  Heaven's 
name ! — I  dare  say  you  have  spent  all  the  intervening  years 
in  getting  rid  so  completely  of  the  effects  of  your  Dutch 
education.' 

'Oh,  forgive  me,  Miss  Mannering,'  said  the  lawyer;  'the 
Dutch  are  a  much  more  accomplished  people  in  point  of 
gallantry  than  their  volatile  neighbours  are  willing  to  ad- 
mit.    They  are  constant  as  clockwork  in  their  attentions.' 

'I  should  tire  of  that,'  said  Julia. 

'Imperturbable  in  their  good  temper,'  continued  Pleydell. 

'Worse  and  worse,'  said  the  young  lady. 

'And  then,'  said  the  old  beau  garqon,  'although  for  six 
times  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  your  swain  has 
placed  the  capuchin  round  your  neck,  and  the  stove  under 
your   feet,  and   driven  your  little   sledge   upon  the   ice   in 


i 


GUY    MANNERING  405 

winter,  and  your  cabriole  through  the  dust  in  summer,  you 
may  dismiss  him  at  once,  without  reason  or  apology,  upon 
the  two  thousand  one  hundred  and  ninetieth  day,  which, 
according  to  my  hasty  calculation,  and  without  reckoning 
leap-years,  will  complete  the  cycle  of  the  supposed  adora- 
tion, and  that  without  your  amiable  feelings  having  the 
slightest  occasion  to  be  alarmed  for  the  consequences  to 
those  of  Mynheer.' 

'Well,'  replied  Julia,  'that  last  is  truly  a  Dutch  recom- 
mendation, Mr.  Pleydell — crystal  and  hearts  would  lose  all 
their  merit  in  the  world,  if  it  were  not  for  their  fragility.' 

'Why,  upon  that  point  of  the  argument,  Miss  Mannering, 
it  is  as  difficult  to  find  a  heart  that  will  break,  as  a  glass 
that  will  not;  and  for  that  reason  I  would  press  the  value 
of  mine  own — were  it  not  that  I  see  Mr.  Sampson's  eyes 
have  been  closed,  and  his  hands  clasped  for  some  time, 
attending  the  end  of  our  conference  to  begin  the  grace — 
And,  to  say  the  truth,  the  appearance  of  the  wild  ducks 
is  very  appetizing.'  So  saying,  the  worthy  counsellor  sat 
himself  to  table,  and  laid  aside  his  gallantry  for  awhile,  to 
do  honour  to  the  good  things  placed  before  him.  Nothing 
further  is  recorded  of  him  for  some  time,  excepting  an 
observation  that  the  ducks  were  roasted  to  a  single  turn, 
and  that  Mrs.  Allan's  sauce,  of  claret,  lemon,  and  cayenne, 
was  beyond  praise. 

'I  see,'  said  Miss  Mannering,  'I  have  a  formidable  rival 
in  Mr.  Pleydell's  favour,  even  on  the  very  first  night  of 
his  avowed  admiration.' 

'Pardon  me,  my  fair  lady,'  answered  the  counsellor, — 
'your  avowed  rigour  alone  has  induced  me  to  commit  the 
solecism  of  eating  a  good  supper  in  your  presence ;  how 
shall  I  support  your  frowns  without  reinforcing  my  strength? 
Upon  the  same  principle,  and  no  other,  I  will  ask  permission 
to  drink  wine  with  you.' 

'This  is  the  fashion  of  Utrecht  also,  I  suppose.  Mr. 
Pleydell  ?' 

'Forgive  me.  madam,'  answered  the  counsellor;  "the 
French  themselves,  the  patterns  of  all  that  is  gallant,  term 
their  tavern-keepers  restaurateurs,  alluding,  doubtless,  to 
the  relief  they  afford  to  the  disconsolate  lover,  when  bowed 


406  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

down  to  the  earth  by  his  mistress's  severity.  My  own  case 
requires  so  much  rehef,  that  I  must  trouble  you  for  that 
other  wing,  Mr.  Sampson,  without  prejudice  to  my  after- 
wards applying  to  Miss  Bertram  for  a  tart; — be  pleased  to 
tear  the  wing,  sir,  instead  of  cutting  it  ofif — Mr.  Barnes 
will  assist  you,  Mr.  Sampson, — thank  you,  sir — and,  Mr. 
Barnes,  a  glass  of  ale,  if  you  please.' 

While  the  old  gentleman,  pleased  with  Miss  Mannering's 
liveliness  and  attention,  rattled  away  for  her  amusement 
and  his  own,  the  impatience  of  Colonel  Mannering  began 
to  exceed  all  bounds.  He  declined  sitting  down  at  table, 
under  pretence  that  he  never  ate  supper;  and  traversed 
the  parlour,  in  which  they  were,  with  hasty  and  impatient 
steps,  now  throwing  up  the  window  to  gaze  upon  the  dark 
lawn,  now  listening  for  the  remote  sound  of  the  carriage 
advancing  up  the  avenue.  At  length,  in  a  feeling  of  un- 
controllable impatience,  he  left  the  room,  took  his  hat  and 
cloak,  and  pursued  his  walk  up  the  avenue,  as  if  his  so 
doing  would  hasten  the  approach  of  those  whom  he  de- 
sired to  see. 

'I  really  wish,'  said  Miss  Bertram,  'Colonel  Mannering 
would  not  venture  out  after  nightfall.  You  must  have 
heard,  Mr.  Pleydell,  what  a  cruel  fright  we  had?* 

'Oh,  with  the  smugglers?'  replied  the  advocate.  'They 
are  old  friends  of  mine; — I  was  the  means  of  bringing  some 
of  them  to  justice  a  long  time  since,  when  sheriff  of  this 
county.' 

'And  then  the  alarm  we  had  immediately  afterwards,' 
added  Miss  Bertram,  'from  the  vengeance  of  one  of  these 
wretches.' 

'When  young  Hazlewood  was  hurt — I  heard  of  that  too.' 

'Imagine,  my  dear  Mr.  Pleydell,'  continued  Lucy,  'how 
much  Miss  Mannering  and  I  were  alarmed,  when  a  ruffian, 
equally  dreadful  for  his  great  strength,  and  the  sternness 
of  his  features,  rushed  out  upon  us !' 

'You  must  know,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  said  Julia,  unable  to 
suppress  her  resentment  at  this  undesigned  aspersion  of 
her  admirer,  'that  young  Hazlewood  is  so  handsome  in 
the  eyes  of  the  young  ladies  of  this  country,  that  they  think 
every  person  shocking  who  comes  near  him.' 


GUY    IM  ANN  BRING  407 

'Oho !'  thought  Pleydell,  who  was  by  profession  an  ob- 
server   of    tones    and   gestures,    'there 's   something    wrong 

here  between  my  young  friends. Well,  Miss  IMannering, 

I  have  not  seen  young  Hazlewood  since  he  was  a  boy,  so 
the  ladies  may  be  perfectly  right;  but  I  can  assure  you,  in 
spite  of  your  scorn,  that  if  you  want  to  see  handsome  men 
you  must  go  to  Holland ;  the  prettiest  fellow  I  ever  saw 
was  a  Dutchman,  in  spite  of  his  being  called  Vanbost.  or 
Vanbuster,  or  some  such  barbarous  name.  He  will  not  be 
quite  so  handsome  now,  to  be  sure.' 

It  was  now  Julia's  turn  to  look  a  little  out  of  counte- 
nance at  the  chance  hit  of  her  learned  admirer,  but  that 
instant  the  Colonel  entered  the  room.  "I  can  hear  nothing 
of  them  yet,'  he  said;  'still,  however,  we  will  not  separate. 
— Where  is  Dominie  Sampson?' 

'Here,  honoured  sir.' 

'What  is  that  book  you  hold  in  your  hand,  Mr.  Sampson?' 

'It 's  even  the  learned  De  Lyra,  sir — I  would  crave  his 
honour  Mr.  Pleydell's  judgement,  always  with  his  best 
leisure,  to  expound  a  disputed  passage.' 

'I  am  not  in  the  vein,  Mr.  Sampson,'  answered  Pleydell ; 
'here  's  metal  more  attractive — I  do  not  despair  to  engage 
these  two  young  ladies  in  a  glee  or  a  catch,  wherein  I, 
even  I  myself,  will  adventure  myself  fo^  the  bass  part. 
Hang  De  Lyra,  man;  keep  him  for  a  fitter  season.' 

The  disappointed  Dominie  shut  his  ponderous  tome,  much 
marvelling  in  his  mind  how  a  person  possessed  of  the  lawyer's 
erudition  could  give  his  mind  to  these  frivolous  toys.  But 
the  counsellor,  indifferent  to  the  high  character  for  learning 
which  he  was  trifling  away,  filled  himself  a  large  glass  of 
Burgundy,  and  after  preluding  a  little  with  a  voice  some- 
what the  worse  for  the  wear,  gave  the  ladies  a  courageous 
invitation  to  join  in  'We  be  three  poor  Mariners,'  and 
accomplished  his  own  part  therein  with  great  eclat. 

'Are  you  not  withering  your  roses  with  sitting  up  so 
late,  my  young  ladies?'  said  the  ColoneT. 

'Not  a  bit,  sir,'  answered  Julia;  'your  friend,  Mr.  Pley- 
dell, threatens  to  become  a  pupil  of  Mr.  Sampson's 
to-morrow,  so  wc  must  make  the  most  of  our  conquest  to- 
night.' 


408  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

This  led  to  another  musical  trial  of  skill,  and  that  to 
lively  conversation.  At  length,  when  the  solitary  sound  of 
one  o'clock  had  long  since  resounded  on  the  ebon  ear  of 
night,  and  the  next  signal  of  the  advance  of  time  was  close  J 
approaching,  Mannering,  whose  impatience  had  long  sub- 
sided into  disappointment  and  despair,  looked  at  his  watch, 
and  said,  'We  must  now  give  them  up' — when  at  that  in- 
stant— But  what  then  befell  will  require  a  separate  chapter. 


CHAPTER  L 

Justice.     This  does  indeed  confirm  each  circumstance 

The  gipsy   told 

No  orphan,  nor  without  a  friend  art  thou 

/  am  thy  father,  here's  thy  mother,  there 

Thy  uncle This  thy  first  cousin,  and  these 

Are  all  thy  near  relations  I 

The  Critic. 

k  S  Mannering  replaced  his  watch,  he  heard  a  distant 
l\  and  hollow  sound — 'It  is  a  carriage  for  certain — no, 
-^ — ^  it  is  but  the  sound  of  the  wind  among  the  leafless 
trees.  Do  come  to  the  window,  Mr.  Pleydell.'  The  coun- 
sellor, who,  with  his  large  silk  handkerchief  in  his  hand, 
was  expatiating  away  to  Julia  upon  some  subject  which  he 
thought  was  interesting,  obeyed  the  summons — first,  how- 
ever, wrapping  the  handkerchief  round  his  neck  by  way  of 
precaution  against  the  cold  air.  The  sound  of  wheels  be- 
came now  very  perceptible,  and  Pleydell,  as  if  he  had  re- 
served all  his  curiosity  till  that  moment,  ran  out  to  the  hall. 
The  Colonel  rung  for  Barnes  to  desire  that  the  persons  who 
came  in  the  carriage  might  be  shown  into  a  separate  room, 
being  altogether  uncertain  whom  it  might  contain.  It 
stopped,  however,  at  the  door,  before  his  purpose  could  be 
fully  explained.  A  moment  after  Mr.  Pleydell  called  out, 
'Here  's  our  Liddesdale  friend,  I  protest,  with  a  strapping 
young  fellow  of  the  same  calibre.'  His  voice  arrested  Din- 
mont,  who  recognized  him  with  equal  surprise  and  pleasure. 
'Od,  if  it 's  your  honour,  we'll  a'  be  as  right  and  tight  as 
thack  and  rape  can  make  us.'^ 

But  while  the  farmer  stopped  to  make  his  bow,  Bertram, 
dizzied  with  the  sudden  glare  of  light,  and  bewildered  with 
the  circumstances  of  his  situation,  almost  unconsciously 
entered  the  open  door  of  the  parlour,  and  confronted  the 
Colonel,  who  was  just  advancing  towards  it.     The  strong 

*  When  a  farmer's  crop  is  got  safely  into  the  barn-yard,  it  is  said  to  be 
made  fast  with  thack  and  rape — Anglicc.  straw  and  rope. 

409 


410  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

light  of  the  apartment  left  no  doubt  of  his  identity,  and 
he  himself  was  as  much  confounded  with  the  appearance 
of  those  to  whom  he  so  unexpectedly  presented  himself, 
as  they  were  by  the  sight  of  so  utterly  unlooked-for  an 
object.  It  must  be  remembered  that  each  individual 
present  had  their  own  peculiar  reasons  for  looking  with 
terror  upon  what  seemed  at  first  sight  a  spectral  apparition. 
Mannering  saw  before  him  the  man  whom  he  supposed 
he  had  killed  in  India;  Julia  beheld  her  lover  in  a  most 
peculiar  and  hazardous  situation;  and  Lucy  Bertram  at 
once  knew  the  person  who  had  fired  upon  young  Hazlewood. 
Bertram,  who  interpreted  the  fixed  and  motionless  astonish- 
ment of  the  Colonel  into  displeasure  at  his  intrusion, 
hastened  to  say  that  it  was  involuntary,  since  he  had  been 
hurried  hither  without  even  knowing  whither  he  was  to 
be  transported. 

'Mr.  Brown,  I  believe?'  said  Colonel  Mannering. 

'Yes,  sir,'  replied  the  young  man,  modestly,  but  with 
firmness,  'the  same  you  knew  in  India;  and  who  ventures 
to  hope,  that  what  you  did  then  know  of  him  is  not  such 
as  should  prevent  his  requesting  you  would  favour  him  with 
your  attestation  to  his  character,  as  a  gentleman  and  man 
of  honour.' 

'Mr.  Brown — I  have  been  seldom — never — so  much  sur- 
prised— certainly,  sir,  in  whatever  passed  between  us,  you 
have  a  right  to  command  my  favourable  testimony.' 

At  this  critical  moment  entered  the  counsellor  and 
Dinmont.  The  former  beheld,  to  his  astonishment,  the 
Colonel  but  just  recovering  from  his  first  surprise,  Lucy 
Bertram  ready  to  faint  with  terror,  and  Miss  Mannering 
in  an  agony  of  doubt  and  apprehension,  which  she  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  disguise  or  suppress.  'What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this?'  said  he;  'has  this  young  fellow  brought  the 
Gorgon's  head  in  his  hand? — let  me  look  at  him. — By 
Heaven  !'  he  muttered  to  himself,  'the  very  image  of  old 
Ellangowan! — Yes,  the  same  manly  form  and  handsome 
features,  but  with  a  world  of  more  intelligence  in  the  face — 
Yes ! — the  witch  has  kept  her  word.'  Then  instantly  passing 
to  Lucy,  'Look  at  that  man.  Miss  Bertram,  my  dear;  have 
you  never  seen  any  one  like  him?' 


GUY    MANNERING  411 

Lucy  had  only  ventured  one  glance  at  this  object  of 
terror,  by  which,  however,  from  his  remarkable  height 
and  appearance,  she  at  once  recognized  the  supposed 
assassin  of  younj^'  Hazlewood — a  conviction  which  excluded. 
of  course,  the  more  favourable  association  of  ideas  which 
might  have  occurred  on  a  closer  view. — 'Don't  ask  me 
about  him,  sir,'  said  she,  turning  away  her  eyes ;  'send 
him  away,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  we  shall  all  be  murdered !' 

'Murdered!  where 's  the  poker?'  said  the  advocate  in 
some  alarm.  'But  nonsense ! — we  are  three  men  besides 
the  servants,  and  there  is  honest  Liddesdale,  worth  half  a 
dozen  to  boot — we  have  the  major  vis  upon  our  side.  How- 
ever, here,  my  friend  Dandie — Davie — what  do  they  call 
you? — keep  between  that  fellow  and  us  for  the  protection 
of  the  ladies.' 

'Lord !  Mr.  Pleydell,'  said  the  astonished  farmer,  'that 's 
Captain  Brown;  do  ye  no  ken  the  Captain?' 

'Nay,  if  he's  a  friend  of  yours,  we  may  be  safe  enough,' 
answered  Pleydell ;  'but  keep  near  him.' 

All  this  passed  with  such  rapidity,  that  it  was  over  before 
the  Dominie  had  recovered  himself  from  a  fit  of  absence, 
shut  the  book  which  he  had  been  studying  in  a  corner,  and 
advancing  to  obtain  a  sight  of  the  strangers,  exclaimed  at 
once,  upon  beholding  Bertram,  'If  the  grave  can  give  up 
the  dead,  that  is  my  dear  and  honoured  master  I' 

'We're  right  after  all,  by  Heaven !  I  was  sure  I  was 
right,'  said  the  lawyer ; — 'he  is  the  very  image  of  his 
father. — Come,  Colonel,  what  do  you  think  of,  that  you 
do  not  bid  your  guest  welcome?  I  think — I  believe — I 
trust  we're  right — never  saw  such  a  likeness — But  patience 
— Dominie,  say  not  a  word. — Sit  down,  young  gentleman.' 

'I  beg  pardon,  sir; — if  I  am.  as  I  understand,  in  Colonel 
Mannering's  house,  I  should  wish  first  to  know  if  my  acci- 
dental appearance  here  gives  offence,  or  if  I  am  welcome?' 

Mannering  instantly  made  an  effort.  'Welcome? — most 
certainly,  especially  if  you  can  point  out  how  I  can  serve 
you.  I  believe  I  may  have  some  wrongs  to  repair  towards 
you — I  have  often  suspected  so;  but  your  sudden  and  un- 
expected appearance,  connected  with  painful  recollections, 
prevented  my  saying  at  first,  as  I  now  say,  that  whatever 


412  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

has  procured  me  the  honour  of  this  visit,  it  is  an  acceptable 
one.' 

Bertram  bowed  with  an  air  of  distant,  yet  civil  acknowl- 
edgement, to  the  grave  courtesy  of  Mannering. 

'Julia,  my  love,  you  had  better  retire. — Mr.  Brown,  you 
will  excuse  my  daughter ;  there  are  circumstances  which 
I  perceive  rush  upon  her  recollection.* 

Miss  Mannering  rose  and  retired  accordingly;  yet,  as 
she  passed  Bertram,  could  not  suppress  the  words,  'In- 
fatuated !  a  second  time  !'  but  so  pronounced  as  to  be  heard 
by  him  alone.  Miss  Bertram  accompanied  her  friend, 
much  surprised,  but  without  venturing  a  second  glance  at 
the  object  of  her  terror.  Some  mistake  she  saw  there  was, 
and  was  unwilling  to  increase  it  by  denouncing  the  stranger 
as  an  assassin.  He  was  known,  she  saw,  to  the  Colonel, 
and  received  as  a  gentleman :  certainly  he  either  was  not 
the  person  she  suspected,  or  Hazlewood  was  right  in  sup- 
posing the  shot  accidental. 

The  remaining  part  of  the  company  would  have  formed 
no  bad  group  for  a  skilful  painter.  Each  was  too  much 
embarrassed  with  his  own  sensations  to  observe  those  of 
the  others.  Bertram  most  unexpectedly  found  himself  in 
the  house  of  one  whom  he  was  alternately  disposed  to 
dislike  as  his  personal  enemy,  and  to  respect  as  the  father 
of  Julia ;  Mannering  was  struggling  between  his  high  sense 
of  courtesy  and  hospitality,  his  joy  at  finding  himself  re- 
lieved from  the  guilt  of  having  shed  life  in  a  private  quarrel, 
and  the  former  feelings  of  dislike  and  prejudice,  which 
revived  in  his  haughty  mind  at  the  sight  of  the  object 
against  whom  he  had  entertained  them ;  Sampson,  support- 
ing his  shaking  limbs  by  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair, 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  Bertram,  with  a  staring  expression  of 
nervous  anxiety  which  convulsed  his  whole  visage ;  Din- 
mont,  enveloped  in  his  loose  shaggy  great-coat,  and  re- 
sembling a  huge  bear  erect  upon  his  hinder  legs,  stared  on 
the  whole  scene  with  great  round  eyes  that  witnessed  his 
amazement. 

The  counsellor  alone  was  in  his  element:  shrewd,  prompt, 
and  active,  he  already  calculated  the  prospect  of  brilliant 
success  in  a   strange,   eventful,   and   mysterious   lawsuit, — 


GUY    MANXERING  413 

and  no  young  monarch,  flushed  with  hopes  and  at  the  head 
of  a  gallant  army,  could  experience  more  glee  when  taking 
the  field  on  his  first  campaign.  He  bustled  about  with 
great  energy,  and  took  the  arrangement  of  the  whole  ex- 
planation upon  himself. 

'Come,  come,  gentlemen,  ?it  down ;  this  is  all  in  my 
province — you  must  let  me  arrange  it  for  you.  Sit  down, 
my  dear  Colonel,  and  let  me  manage ;  sit  down,  Mr.  Brown, 
aut  quocnnquc  alio  nomine  vocaris — Dominie,  take  your 
seat — draw  in  your  chair,  honest  Liddesdale.' 

'I  dinna  ken,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  said  Dinmont,  looking  at 
his  dreadnought-coat,  then  at  the  handsome  furniture  of 
the  room,  'I  had  maybe  better  gang  some  gate  else,  and 
leave  ye  till  your  cracks — I'm  no  just  that  weel  put  on.' 

The  Colonel,  who  by  this  time  recognized  Dandie,  im- 
mediately went  up  and  bid  him  heartily  welcome ;  assuring 
him,  that  from  what  he  had  seen  of  him  in  Edinburgh,  he 
was  sure  his  rough  coat  and  thick-sclcd  boots  would  honour 
a  royal  drawing-room. 

'Na,  na.  Colonel,  we're  just  plain  up-the-country  folk; 
but  nae  doubt  I  would  fain  hear  ony  pleasure  that  was  gaun 
to  happen  the  Captain,  and  I'm  sure  a'  will  gae  right  if 
Mr.  Pleydell  will  take  his  bit  job  in  hand.' 

'You're  right,  Dandie — spoke  like  a  Hieland*  oracle — and 
now  be  silent.  Well,  you  are  all  seated  at  last ;  take  a  glass 
of  wine  till  I  begin  my  catechism  methodically.  And  now,' 
turning  to  Bertram,  'my  dear  boy,  do  you  know  who  or 
what  you  are?' 

In  spite  of  his  perplexity,  the  catechumen  could  not  help 
laughing  at  the  commencement,  and  answered,  'Indeed,  sir. 
I  formerly  thought  I  did;  but  I  own  late  circumstances  have 
made  me  somewhat  uncertain.' 

'Then  tell  us  what  you  formerly  thought  yourself.' 

'Why,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  thinking  and  calling  myself 
Vanbeest  Brown,  who  served  as  a  cadet  or  volunteer  under 

Colonel  Mannering,  when  he  commanded  the regiment, 

in  which  capacity  I  was  not  unknown  to  him.' 

_'  It  may  not  be  unnecessary  tn  tell  southern  readers,  that  the  moun- 
tainous country  in  the  south-western  borders  of  Scotland,  is  called  Hieland, 
thouKh  totally  different  from  the  much  more  mountainous  and  more  ex- 
tensive districts  of  the  north,  usually  called  Hielands. 


41t  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'There,'  said  the  Colonel,  'I  can  assure  Mr.  Brown  of 
his  identity;  and  add,  what  his  modesty  may  have  for- 
gotten, that  he  was  distinguished  as  a  young  man  of  talent 
and  spirit.' 

'So  much  the  better,  my  dear  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell; 
'but  that  is  to  general  character — Mr.  Brown  must  tell  us 
where  he  was  born.' 

'In  Scotland,  I  believe,  but  the  place  uncertain.' 

'Where  educated?' 

'In  Holland,  certainly.' 

'Do  you  remember  nothing  of  your  early  life  before  you 
left  Scotland?' 

'Very  imperfectly; — yet  I  have  a  strong  idea,  perhaps 
more  deeply  impressed  upon  me  by  subsequent  hard  usage, 
that  I  was  during  my  childhood  the  object  of  much  solicitude 
and  affection.  I  have  an  indistinct  remembrance  of  a  good- 
looking  man  whom  I  used  to  call  papa,  and  of  a  lady  who 
was  infirm  in  health,  and  who,  I  think,  must  have  been 
my  mother;  but  it  is  an  imperfect  and  confused  recollection. 
I  remember,  too,  a  tall,  thin,  kind-tempered  man  in  black, 
who  used  to  teach  me  my  letters  and  walk  out  with  me ; — 
and  I  think  the  very  last  time ' 

Here  the  Dominie  could  contain  no  longer.  While  every 
succeeding  word  served  to  prove  that  the  child  of  his 
benefactor  stood  before  him,  he  had  struggled  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  to  suppress  his  emotions ;  but  when  the 
juvenile  recollections  of  Bertram  turned  towards  his  tutor 
and  his  precepts,  he  was  compelled  to  give  way  to  his 
feelings. 

He  rose  hastily  from  his  chair,  and  with  clasped  hands, 
trembling  limbs,  and  streaming  eyes,  called  out  aloud, 
'Harry  Bertram! — look  at  me — was  I  not  the  man?' 

'Yes !'  said  Bertram,  starting  from  his  seat  as  if  a  sudden 
light  had  burst  in  upon  his  mind, — 'Yes — that  was  my 
name ! — and  that  is  the  voice  and  the  figure  of  my  kind 
old  master !' 

The  Dominie  threw  himself  into  his  arms,  pressed  him 
a  thousand  times  to  his  bosom  in  convulsions  of  transport 
which  shook  his  whole  frame,  sobbed  hysterically,  and  at 
length,    in   the   emphatic   language   of    Scripture,   lifted   up 


GU^    MANNER  I NG  41.5 

his  voice  and  wept  aloud.  Colonel  Mannering  had  recourse 
to  his  handkerchief ;  Pleydell  made  wry  faces,  and  wiped 
the  glasses  of  his  spectacles;  and  honest  Dinmont,  after 
two  loud  blubbering  explosions,  exclaimed,  'Deil  's  in  the 
man !  he  's  garr'd  me  do  that  I  haena  done  since  my  auld 
mither  died.' 

'Come,  come,'  said  the  counsellor  at  last,  'silence  in  the 
court. — We  have  a  clever  party  to  contend  with;  we  must 
lose  no  time  in  gathering  our  information — for  anything 
I  know,  there  may  be  something  to  be  done  before  day- 
break.' 

'I  will  order  a  horse  to  be  saddled,  if  you  please,'  said 
the  Colonel. 

'No,  no,  time  enough — time  enough.  But  come.  Dominie ; 
— I  have  allowed  you  a  competent  space  to  express  your 
feelings — I  must  circumduce  the  term ;  you  must  let  me 
proceed  in  my  examination.' 

The  Dominie  was  habitually  obedient  to  any  one  who 
chose  to  impose  commands  upon  him ;  he  sunk  back  into 
his  chair,  spread  his  check  handkerchief  over  his  face,  to 
serve,  as  I  suppose,  for  the  Grecian  painter's  veil,  and 
from  the  action  of  his  folded  hands,  appeared  for  a  time 
engaged  in  the  act  of  mental  thanksgiving.  He  then  raised 
his  eyes  over  the  screen,  as  if  to  be  assured  that  the  pleas- 
ing apparition  had  not  melted  into  air — then  again  sunk 
them  to  resume  an  internal  act  of  devotion,  until  he  felt 
himself  compelled  to  give  attention  to  the  counsellor,  from 
the  interest  which  his  questions  excited. 

'And  now,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell,  after  several  minute  in- 
quiries concerning  his  recollection  of  early  events — 'and 
now,  Mr.  Bertram,  for  I  think  we  ought  in  future  to  call 
you  by  your  own  proper  name,  will  you  have  the  goodness 
to  let  us  know  every  particular  which  you  can  recollect 
concerning  the  mode  of  your  leaving  Scotland?' 

'Indeed,  sir,  to  say  the  truth,  though  the  terrible  outlines 
of  that  day  are  strongly  impressed  upon  my  memory,  yet 
somehow  the  very  terror  which  fixed  them  there  has  in  a 
great  measure  confounded  and  confused  the  details.  I  rec- 
ollect, however,  that  I  was  walking  somewhere  or  other — 
in  a  wood,  I  think ' 


416  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

*0h,  yes,  it  was  in  Warroch-Wood,  my  dear,'  said  the 
Dominie. 

'Hush,  Mr.  Sampson,'  said  the  lawyer. 

'Yes,  it  was  in  a  wood,'  continued  Bertram,  as  long  past 
and  confused  ideas  arranged  themselves  in  his  reviving 
recollection;  'and  some  one  was  with  me — this  worthy  and 
affectionate  gentleman,   I  think.' 

'Oh,  aye,  aye,  Harry,  Lord  bless  thee — it  was  even  I 
myself.' 

Be  silent.  Dominie,  and  don't  interrupt  the  evidence,' 
said  Pleydell. — 'And  so,  sir?'  to  Bertram. 

'And  so,  sir,'  continued  Bertram,  'like  one  of  the  changes 
of  a  dream,  I  thought  I  was  on  horseback  before  my  guide.' 

'No,  no,'  exclaimed  Sampson,  'never  did  I  put  my  own 
limbs,  not  to  say  thine,  into  such  peril.' 

'On  my  word,  this  is  intolerable ! — Look  ye,  Dominie,  if 
you  speak  another  word  till  I  give  you  leave,  I  will  read 
three  sentences  out  of  the  Black  Acts,  whisk  my  cane  round 
my  head  three  times,  undo  all  the  magic  of  this  night's 
work,  and  conjure  Harry  Bertram  back  again  into  Vanbeest 
Brown.' 

'Honoured  and  worthy  sir,'  groaned  out  the  Dominie, 
'I  humbly  crave  pardon;  it  was  but  vcrbian  nolens.' 

'Well,  nolens  volcns,  you  must  hold  your  tongue,'  said 
Pleydell. 

'Pray,  be  silent,  Mr.  Sampson,'  said  the  Colonel ;  'it  is 
of  great  consequence  to  your  recovered  friend,  that  you 
permit  Mr.  Pleydell  to  proceed  in  his  inquiries.' 

'I  am  mute,'  said  the  rebuked  Dominie. 

'On  a  sudden,'  continued  Bertram,  'two  or  three  men 
sprung  out  upon  us,  and  we  were  pulled  from  horseback. 
I  have  little  recollection  of  anything  else,  but  that  I  tried 
to  escape  in  the  midst  of  a  desperate  scuffle,  and  fell  into 
the  arms  of  a  very  tall  woman  who  started  from  the 
bushes,  and  protected  me  for  some  time ; — the  rest  is  all 
confusion  and  dread — a  dim  recollection  of  a  sea-beach  and 
a  cave,  and  of  some  strong  potion  which  lulled  me  to 
sleep  for  a  length  of  time.  In  short,  it  is  all  a  blank  in  my 
memory,  until  I  recollect  myself  first  an  ill-used  and  half- 
starved  cabin-boy  aboard  a  sloop,  and  then  a  schoolboy  in 


GUY    MANNERING  417 

Holland,  under  the  protection  of  an  old  merchant,  who  had 
taken  some  fancy  for  me.' 

'And  what  account,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell,  'did  your  guardian 
give  of  your  parentage  ?' 

'A  very  brief  one,'  answered  Bertram,  'and  a  charge  to 
inquire  no  further.  I  was  given  to  understand  that  my 
father  was  concerned  in  the  smuggling  trade  carried  on 
on  the  eastern  coast  of  Scotland,  and  was  killed  in  a  skirmish 
with  the  revenue  officers;  that  his  correspondents  in 
Holland  had  a  vessel  on  the  coast  at  the  time,  part  of 
the  crew  of  which  were  engaged  in  the  affair,  and  that  they 
brought  me  off  after  it  was  over,  from  a  motive  of  com- 
passion, as  I  was  left  destitute  by  my  father's  death.  As 
I  grew  older,  there  was  much  of  this  story  seemed  incon- 
sistent with  my  own  recollections.  But  what  could  I  do? 
I  had  no  means  of  ascertaining  my  doubts,  nor  a  single 
friend  with  whom  I  could  communicate  or  canvass  them. 
The  rest  of  my  story  is  known  to  Colonel  Mannering :  I 
went  out  to  India  to  be  a  clerk  in  a  Dutch  house ;  their 
affairs  fell  into  confusion;  T  betook  myself  to  the  military 
profession,  and,  I  trust,  as  yet  I  have  not  disgraced  it.' 

'Thou  art  a  fine  young  fellow,  I'll  be  bound  for  thee,' 
said  Pleydell ;  'and  since  you  have  wanted  a  father  so 
long,  I  wish  from  my  heart  I  could  claim  the  paternity 
myself.     But  this  affair  of  young  Hazlewood ' 

'Was  merely  accidental,'  said  Bertram.  'I  was  travelling 
in  Scotland  for  pleasure,  and  after  a  week's  residence 
with  my  friend  Mr.  Dinmont,  with  whom  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  form  an  accidental  acquaintance ' 

'It  was  my  gude  fortune  that,'  said  Dinmont.  'Od,  my 
brains  wad  hae  been  knockit  out  by  twa  blackguards,  if  it 
hadna  been  for  his  four  quarters.' 

'Shortly  after  we  parted  at  the  town  of  .  I  lost  my 

baggage  by  thieves,  and  it  was  while  residing  at  Kipple- 
tringan  that  I  accidentally  met  the  young  gentleman.  As 
J  was  approaching  to  pay  my  respects  to  I\Tiss  Mannering, 
whom  I  had  known  in  India,  Mr.  Hazlewood,  conceiving 
my  appearance  none  of  the  most  respectable,  commanded 
me  rather  haughtily  to  stand  back,  and  so  gave  occasion 
to  the  fray  in  which  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  the  accidental 


418  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

means    of    wounding    him. — And    now,    sir,    that    I    have 
answered  all  your  questions ' 

'No,  no,  not  quite  all,'  said  Pleydell.  winking  sagaciously; 
'there  are  some  interrogatories  which  I  shall  delay  till  to- 
morrow, for  it  is  time,  I  believe,  to  close  the  sederunt  for 
this  night,  or  rather  morning.' 

'Well,  then,  sir,'  said  the  young  man,  'to  vary  the  phrase, 
since  I  have  answered  all  the  questions  which  you  have 
chosen  to  ask  to-night,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me 
who  you  are  that  take  such  interest  in  my  affairs,  and 
whom  you  take  me  to  be,  since  my  arrival  has  occasioned 
such  commotion?' 

'Why,  sir,  for  myself,'  replied  the  counsellor,  'I  am 
Paulus  Pleydell,  an  advocate  at  the  Scottish  bar;  and  for 
you,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  distinctly  who  you  are  at  present ; 
but  I  trust  in  a  short  time  to  hail  you  by  the  title  of  Harry 
Bertram,  Esq.,  representative  of  one  of  the  oldest  families 
in  Scotland,  and  heir  of  tailzie  and  provision  to  the  estate 
of  Ellangowan.  Aye,'  continued  he,  shutting  his  eyes  and 
speaking  to  himself,  'we  must  pass  over  his  father,  and 
serve  him  heir  to  his  grandfather  Lewis,  the  entailer,  the 
only  wise  man  of  his  family  that  I  ever  heard  of.' 

They  had  now  risen  to  retire  to  their  apartments  for 
the  night,  when  Colonel  Mannering  walked  up  to  Bertram, 
as  he  stood  astonished  at  the  counsellor's  words.  'I  give 
you  joy,'  he  said,  'of  the  prospects  which  fate  has  opened 
before  you.  I  was  an  early  friend  of  your  father,  and 
chanced  to  be  in  the  house  of  Ellangowan  as  unexpectedly 
as  you  are  now  in  mine,  upon  the  very  night  on  which 
you  were  born.  I  little  knew  this  circumstance  when — 
but  I  trust  unkindness  will  be  forgotten  between  us.  Be- 
lieve me,  your  appearance  here,  as  Mr.  Brown  alive  and 
well,  has  relieved  me  from  most  painful  sensations;  and 
your  right  to  the  name  of  an  old  friend  renders  your 
presence,  as  Mr.  Bertram,  doubly  welcome.' 

"And  my  parents?'  said  Bertram. 

'Are  both  no  more — and  the  family  property  has  been 
sold,  but  I  trust  may  be  recovered.  Whatever  is  wanted 
to  make  your  right  effectual,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to 
supply.' 


d 


GUY    MANNERING  419 

'Nay,  you  may  leave  all  that  to  me,'  said  the  counsellor; 
— *  'tis  my  vocation,  Hal,  I  shall  make  money  of  it.' 

'I'm  sure  it 's  no  for  the  like  o'  me,'  observed  Dinmont, 
'to  speak  to  you  gentlefolks ;  but  if  siller  would  help  on 
the  Captain's  plea,  and  they  say  nae  plea  gangs  on  weel 
without  it ' 

'Except  on  Saturday  night,'  said  Pleydell. 

'Aye,  but  when  your  honour  wadna  take  your  fee,  ye 
wadna  hae  the  cause  neither;  sae  I'll  ne'er  fash  you  on 
a  Saturday  at  e'en  again — But  I  was  saying,  there  's  some 
siller  in  the  spleuchan*  that 's  like  the  Captain's  ain,  for 
we've  ay  counted  it  such,  baith  Ailie  and  me.' 

'No,  no,  Liddesdale — no  occasion,  no  occasion  whatever 
— keep  thy  cash  to  stock  thy  farm.' 

'To  stock  my  farm?  Mr.  Pleydell,  your  honour  kens 
mony  things,  but  ye  dinna  ken  the  farm  o'  Charlies-hope — 
it 's  sae  weel  stockit  already,  that  we  sell  maybe  sax  hundred 
pounds  off  it  ilka  year,  flesh  and  fell  thegither — na,  na.' 

'Can't  you  take  another,  then?' 

'I  dinna  ken — the  Deuke's  no  that  fond  o'  led  farms, 
and  he  canna  bide  to  put  away  the  auld  tenantry ;  and 
then  I  wadna  like,  mysell,  to  gang  about  whistling"  and 
raising  the  rent  on  my  neighbours.' 

'What,  not  upon  thy  neighbour  at  Dawston — Devilstone — 
how  d'ye  call  the  place?' 

'What,  on  Jock  o'  Dawston  ? — hout  na — he 's  a  cam- 
steary*  chield,  and  fasheous*  about  marches,  and  we've  had 
some  bits  o'  splores  thegither;  but  deil  o'  me  if  I  would 
wrang  Jock  o'  Dawston  neither.' 

'Thou'rt  an  honest  fellow,'  said  the  lawyer;  'get  thee 
to  bed ; — thou  wilt  sleep  sounder,  I  warrant  thee,  than  many 
a  man  that  throws  off  an  embroidered  coat,  and  puts  on  a 
laced  nightcap.  Colonel,  I  see  you  are  busy  with  our 
Enfant  tronve.  But  Barnes  must  give  me  a  summons  of 
wakening  at   seven  to-morrow   morning,    for   my   servant's 

'  A  spleuchan  is  a  tobacco  pouch,   occasionally  used  as  a  purse. 

*  Whistling,  among  the  tenantry  of  a  large  estate,  is  when  an  individual 
gives  such  information  to  the  proprietor,  or  his  managers,  as  to  occasion 
the  rent  of  his  neighbour's  farms  being  raised,  which,  for  obvious  reasons, 
is  held  a  very  unpopular  practice. 

^  Obstinate  and  unruly. 

*  Troublesome. 


420  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

a  sleepy-headed  fellow,  and  I  dare  say  my  clerk  Driver 
has  had  Clarence's  fate,  and  is  drowned  by  this  time  in  a 
butt  of  your  ale;  for  Mrs.  Allan  promised  to  make  him 
comfortable,  and  she'll  soon  discover  what  he  expects  from 
that  engagement.  Good  night,  Colonel — good  night, 
Dominie  Sampson — good  night,  Dinmont  the  downright — 
good  night,  last  of  all,  to  the  new-found  representative  of 
the  Bertrams,  and  the  Mac-Dingawaies,  the  Knarths,  the 
Arths,  the  Godfreys,  the  Dennises,  and  the  Rolands,  and, 
last  and  dearest  title,  heir  of  tailzie  and  provision  of  the 
lands  and  barony  of  Ellangowan,  under  the  settlement  of 
Lewis  Bertram,  Esq.,  whose  representative  you  are.' 

And  so  saying,  the  old  gentleman  took  his  candle  and  left 
the  room ;  and  the  company  dispersed,  after  the  Dominie 
had  once  more  hugged  and  embraced  his  'little  Harry 
Bertram.'  as  he  continued  to  call  the  young  soldier  of  six 
feet  high. 


CHAPTER  LI 
My   imagination 


Carries  no  favour  in  it  but  Bertram's 
I  am  undone ;  there  is  no  living,  none, 
If  Bertram  be  away. 

All's  well  that  Ends  well. 

AT  the  hour  which  he  had  appointed  the  preceding 
J-\  evening,  the  indefatigable  lawyer  was  seated  by  a 
•^ — ^  good  fire  and  a  pair  of  wax  candles,  with  a  velvet 
cap  on  his  head  and  a  quilted  silk  night-gown  on  his  person, 
busy  arranging  his  memoranda  of  proofs  and  indications 
concerning  the  murder  of  Frank  Kennedy.  An  express  had 
also  been  dispatched  to  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  requesting  his 
attendance  at  Woodbourne  as  soon  as  possible,  on  business 
of  importance.  Dinmont,  fatigued  with  the  events  of  the 
evening  before,  and  finding  the  accommodations  of  Wood- 
bourne  much  preferable  to  those  of  Mac-Guffog.  was  in  no 
hurry  to  rise.  The  impatience  of  Bertram  might  have  put 
him  earlier  in  motion,  but  Colonel  Mannering  had  intimated 
an  intention  to  visit  him  in  his  apartment  in  the  morning, 
and  he  did  not  choose  to  leave  it.  Before  this  interview  he 
had  dressed  himself,  Barnes  having,  by  his  master's  orders, 
supplied  him  with  every  accommodation  of  linen,  &c.,  and 
he  now  anxiously  waited  the  promised  visit  of  his  land- 
lord. 

In  a  short  time  a  gentle  tap  announced  the  Colonel,  with 
whom  Bertram  held  a  long  and  satisfactory  conversation. 
Each,  however,  concealed  from  the  other  one  circumstance. 
Mannering  could  not  bring  himself  to  acknowledge  the 
astrological  prediction ;  and  Bertram  was,  from  motives 
which  may  be  easily  conceived,  silent  respecting  his  love 
for  Julia.  In  other  respects,  their  intercourse  was  frank, 
and  grateful  to  both,  and  had  latterly,  upon  the  Colonel's 
part,  even  an  approach  to  cordiality.  Bertram  carefully 
measured  his  own  conduct  by  that  of  his  host,  and  seemed 

421 


422  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

rather  to  receive  his  offered  kindness  with  gratitude  and 
pleasure,  than  to  press  for  it  with  solicitation. 

Miss  Bertram  was  in  the  breakfast  parlour  when  Sampson 
shuffled  in, — his  face  all  radiant  with  smiles;  a  circumstance 
so  uncommon,  that  Lucy's  first  idea  was,  that  somebody 
had  been  bantering  him  with  an  imposition  which  had 
thrown  him  into  this  ecstasy.  Having  sat  for  some  time, 
rolling  his  eyes  and  gaping  with  his  mouth  like  the  great 
wooden  head  at  Merlin's  exhibition,  he  at  length  began — 
'And  what  do  you  think  of  him,  ^liss  Lucy?' 

'Think  of  whom,  Mr.  Sampson?'  asked  the  young  lady. 

'Of  Har — no — of  him  that  you  know  about?'  again  de- 
manded the  Dominie. 

'That  I  know  about?'  replied  Luc}-,  totally  at  a  loss  to 
comprehend  his  meaning. 

'Yes — the  stranger,  you  know,  that  came  last  evening 
in  the  post  vehicle — he  who  shot  young  Hazlewood — ha ! 
ha !  ho !'  burst  forth  the  Dominie,  with  a  laugh  that  sounded 
like  neighing. 

'Indeed,  Mr.  Sampson,'  said  his  pupil,  'you  have  chosen 
a  strange  subject  for  mirth; — I  think  nothing  about  the 
man — only  I  hope  the  outrage  was  accidental,  and  that  we 
need  not  fear  a  repetition  of  it.' 

'Accidental! — ho!  ho!  ha!' — again  whinnied   Sampson. 

'Really,  Mr.  Sampson,'  said  Lucy,  somewhat  piqued,  'you 
are  unusually  gay  this  morning.' 

"Yes,  of  a  surety  I  am !  ha !  ha !  ho !  fa-ce-ti-ous — 
ho!  ho!  ha!' 

'So  unusually  facetious,  my  dear  sir,'  pursued  the  young 
lady,  'that  I  would  wish  rather  to  know  the  meaning  of 
your  mirth,  than  to  be  amused  with  its  ef^'ects  only.' 

'You  shall  know  it.  Miss  Lucy,'  replied  poor  Abel — 'Do 
you  remember  your  brother?' 

'Good  God !  how  can  you  ask  me  ? — no  one  knows  better 
than  you,  he  was  lost  the  very  day  I  was  born.' 

'Very  true,  very  true,'  answered  the  Dominie,  saddening 
at  the  recollection;  'I  was  strangely  oblivious — aye,  aye — 
too  true — But  you  remember  your  worthy  father?' 

"How  should  you  doubt  it,  Mr.  Sampson?  it  is  not  so 
many  weeks  since ' 


GUY    MAXNERTXG  423 

'True,  true — aye  too  true,'  replied  the  Dominie,  his 
Houyhnhnm  laugh  sinking  into  a  hysterical  giggle— 'I  will 
be  facetious  no  more  under  these  remembrances — But  look 
at  that  young  man  !' 

Bertram  at  this  instant  entered  the  room.  'Yes,  look 
at  him  well — he  is  your  father's  living  image ;  and  as  God 
has  deprived  you  of  your  dear  parents — O  my  children,  love 
one  another !' 

'It  is  indeed  my  father's  face  and  form,'  said  Lucy, 
turning  very  pale.  Bertram  ran  to  support  her — the  Dominie 
to  fetch  water  to  throw  upon  her  face — (which  in  his  haste 
he  took  from  the  boiling  tea-urn) — when  fortunately  her 
colour  returning  rapidly,  saved  her  from  the  application  of 
this  ill-judged  remedy.  'I  conjure  you  to  tell  me,  Mr. 
Sampson,'  she  said,  in  an  interrupted  yet  solemn  voice,  'is 
this  my  brother?' 

'It  is !  it  is,  Miss  Lucy ! — it  is  little  Harry  Bertram,  as 
sure  as  God's  sun  is  in  that  heaven  !' 

'And  this  is  my  sister?'  said  Bertram,  giving  way  to 
all  that  family  affection,  which  had  so  long  slumbered 
in  his  bosom  for  want  of  an  object  to  expand  itself 
upon. 

'It  is !  it  is ! — it  is  Miss  Lucy  Bertram !'  ejaculated 
Sampson,  'whom  by  my  poor  aid  you  will  find  perfect  in 
the  tongues  of  France  and  Italy,  and  even  of  Spain — in 
reading  and  writing  her  vernacular  tongue,  and  in  arith- 
metic and  book-keeping  by  double  and  single  entry.  I  say 
nothing  of  her  talents  of  shaping,  and  hemming,  and 
governing  a  household,  which,  to  give  every  one  their  due, 
she  acquired  not  from  me,  but  from  the  housekeeper; — 
nor  do  I  take  merit  for  her  performance  upon  stringed 
instruments,  whereunto  the  instructions  of  an  honorable 
young  lady  of  virtue  and  modesty,  and  very  facetious 
withal — Miss  Julia  Mannering — hath  not  meanly  contributed 
— Smim  cuiqnc  tribuito.' 

"You,  then,'  said  Bertram  to  his  sister,  'are  all  that  re- 
mains to  me !  Last  night,  but  more  fully  this  morning. 
Colonel  Mannering  gave  me  an  account  of  our  family  mis- 
fortunes, though  without  saying  I  should  find  my  sister 
here.' 


424  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'That,'  said  Lucy,  'he  left  to  this  gentleman  to  tell  you, — 
one  of  the  kindest  and  most  faithful  of  friends,  who  soothed 
my  father's  long  sickness,  witnessed  his  dying  moments, 
and  amid  the  heaviest  clouds  of  fortune  would  not  desert 
his  orphan.' 

'God  bless  him  for  it!'  said  Bertram,  shaking  the 
Dominie's  hand;  'he  deserves  the  love  with  which  I  have 
always  regarded  even  that  dim  and  imperfect  shadow  of  his 
memory  which  my  childhood  retained.' 

'And  God  bless  you  both,  my  dear  children  !'  said  Sampson : 
'if  it  had  not  been  for  your  sake,  I  would  have  been  con- 
tented (had  Heaven's  pleasure  so  been)  to  lay  my  head 
upon  the  turf  beside  my  patron.' 

'But  I  trust,'  said  Bertram — 'I  am  encouraged  to  hope, 
we  shall  all  see  better  days.  All  our  wrongs  shall  be  re- 
dressed, since  Heaven  has  sent  me  means  and  friends  to 
assert  my  right.' 

'Friends  indeed !'  echoed  the  Dominie,  'and  sent,  as  you 
truly  say,  by  Him,  to  whom  I  early  taught  you  to  look  up 
as  the  source  of  all  that  is  good.  There  is  the  great  Colonel 
Mannering  from  the  Eastern  Indies,  a  man  of  war  from 
his  birth  upwards,  but  who  is  not  the  less  a  man  of  great 
erudition,  considering  his  imperfect  opportunities;  and  there 
is,  moreover,  the  great  advocate,  Mr.  Pleydell,  who  is  also 
a  man  of  great  erudition,  but  who  descendeth  to  trifles 
unbeseeming  thereof;  and  there  is  Mr.  Andrew  Dinmont, 
whom  I  do  not  understand  to  have  possession  of  much 
erudition,  but  who,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old,  is  cunning 
in  that  which  belongeth  to  flocks  and  herds.  Lastly,  there 
is  even  I  myself,  whose  opportunities  of  collecting  erudition, 
as  they  have  been  greater  than  those  of  the  aforesaid 
valuable  persons,  have  not,  if  it  becomes  me  so  to  speak, 
been  pretermitted  by  me,  in  so  far  as  my  poor  faculties 
have  enabled  me  to  profit  by  them.  Of  a  surety,  little 
Harry,  we  must  speedily  resume  our  studies.  I  will  begin 
from  the  foundation — yes,  I  will  reform  your  education 
upward  from  the  true  knowledge  of  English  grammar,  even 
to  that  of  the  Hebrew  or  Chaldaic  tongue.' 

The  reader  may  observe,  that  upon  this  occasion  Sampson 
was  infinitely  more  profuse  of  words  than  he  had  hitherto 


GUY    MANNERIXG  42.5 

exhibited  himself.  The  reason  was,  that  in  recoverinj^:  his 
pupil,  his  mind  went  instantly  back  to  their  original 
connexion,  and  he  had,  in  his  confusion  of  ideas,  the 
strongest  desire  in  the  world  to  resume  spelling  lessons 
and  half-text  with  young  Bertram.  This  was  the  more 
ridiculous,  as  towards  Lucy  he  assumed  no  such  powers 
of  tuition.  But  she  had  grown  up  under  his  eye,  and  had 
been  gradually  emancipated  from  his  government  by  in- 
crease in  years  and  knowledge,  and  a  latent  sense  of  his 
own  inferior  tact  in  manners,  whereas  his  first  ideas  went 
to  take  up  Harry  pretty  nearly  where  he  had  left  him.  From 
the  same  feelings  of  reviving  authority,  he  indulged  him- 
self in  what  was  to  him  a  profusion  of  language;  and  as 
people  seldom  speak  more  than  usual  without  exposing 
themselves,  he  gave  those  whom  he  addressed  plainly  to 
understand,  that  while  he  deferred  implicitly  to  the  opinions 
and  commands,  if  they  chose  to  impose  them,  of  almost 
every  one  whom  he  met  with,  it  was  under  an  internal 
conviction,  that  in  the  article  of  e-ru-di-ti-on,  as  he  usually 
pronounced  the  word,  he  was  infinitely  superior  to  them 
all  put  together.  At  present,  however,  this  intimation  fell 
upon  heedless  ears,  for  the  brother  and  sister  were  too 
deeply  engaged  in  asking  and  receiving  intelligence  con- 
cerning their  former  fortunes,  to  attend  much  to  the  worthy 
Dominie. 

When  Colonel  Mannering  left  Bertram,  he  went  to  Julia's 
dressing-room,  and  dismissed  her  attendant.  'My  dear  sir.' 
she  said  as  he  entered,  'you  have  forgot  our  vigils  last 
night,  and  have  hardly  allowed  me  time  to  comb  my  hair, 
although  you  must  be  sensible  how  it  stood  on  end  at  the 
various  wonders  which  took  place.' 

Tt  is  with  the  inside  of  your  head  that  I  have  some 
business  at  present,  Julia ;  I  will  return  the  outside  to  the 
care  of  your  Mrs.  Mincing  in  a  few  minutes.' 

'Lord,  papa,'  replied  Miss  Mannering,  'think  how  entangled 
all  my  ideas  are.  and  you  to  purpose  to  comb  them  out  in  a 
few  minutes!  If  Mincing  were  to  do  so  in  her  department, 
she  would  tear  half  the  hair  out  of  my  head.' 

'Well  then,  tell  me.'  said  the  Colonel,  'where  the  entangle- 
ment lies,  which  I  will  try  to  extricate  with  due  gentleness.' 


426  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Oh,  everywhere,'  said  the  young  lady — 'the  whole  is  a 
wild  dream.' 

'Well  then,  I  will  try  to  unriddle  it.' — He  gave  a  brief 
sketch  of  the  fate  and  prospects  of  Bertram,  to  which 
Julia  listened  with  an  interest  which  she  in  vain  endeavoured 
to  disguise. — 'Well,'  concluded  her  father,  'are  your  ideas 
on  the  subject  more  luminous?' 

'More  confused  than  ever,  my  dear  sir.'  said  Julia — 'Here 
is  this  young  man  come  from  India,  after  he  had  been 
supposed  dead,  like  Aboulfouaris  the  great  voyager  to  his 
sister  Canzade  and  his  provident  brother  Hour,  I  am 
wrong  in  the  story,  I  believe — Canzade  was  his  wife — 
but  Lucy  may  represent  the  one,  and  the  Dominie  the  other. 
And  then  this  lively  crackbrained  Scotch  lawyer  appears 
like  a  pantomime  at  the  end  of  a  tragedy — And  then  how 
delightful  it  will  be  if  Lucy  gets  back  her  fortune  !' 

'Now  I  think,'  said  the  Colonel,  'that  the  most  mysterious 
part  of  the  business  is.  that  Miss  Julia  Mannering,  who 
must  have  known  her  father's  anxiety  about  the  fate  of 
this  young  man  Brown,  or  Bertram,  as  we  must  now  call 
him,  should  have  met  him  when  Hazlewood's  accident  took 
place,  and  never  once  mentioned  to  her  father  a  word  of 
the  matter,  but  suffered  the  search  to  proceed  against  this 
young  gentleman  as  a  suspicious  character  and  assassin.' 

Julia,  much  of  whose  courage  had  been  hastily  assumed 
to  meet  the  interview  with  her  father,  was  now  unable 
to  rally  herself;  she  hung  down  her  head  in  silence,  after 
in  vain  attempting  to  utter  a  denial  that  she  recollected 
Brown  when  she  met  him. 

'No  answer! — Well,  Julia,'  continued  her  father,  gravely 
but  kindly,  'allow  me  to  ask  you,  Is  this  the  only  time  you 
have  seen  Brown  since  his  return  from  India? — Still  no 
answer.  I  must  then  naturally  suppose  that  it  is  not  the 
first  time? — Still  no  reply.  Julia  Mannering,  will  you  have 
the  kindness  to  answer  me?  Was  it  this  young  man  who 
came  under  your  window  and  conversed  with  you  during 
your  residence  at  Mervyn-Hall?  Julia,  I  command — I 
entreat  you  to  be  candid.' 

Miss  Mannering  raised  her  head.  'I  have  been,  sir — 
I  believe  I  am  still  very  foolish; — and  it  is  perhaps  more 


GUY    MANNERIXG  427 

hard  upon  me  that  I  must  meet  this  gentleman,  who  has 
been,  though  not  the  cause  entirely,  yet  the  accomplice 
of  my  folly,  in  your  presence.' — Here  she  made  a  full  stop. 

'I  am  to  understand,  then,'  said  Mannering.  'that  this 
was  the  author  of  the  serenade  at  Mervyn-Hall?' 

There  was  something  in  this  allusive  change  of  epithet, 
that  gave  Julia  a  little  more  courage — 'He  was  indeed,  sir ; 
and  if  I  am  very  wrong,  as  I  have  often  thought,  I  have  some 
apology.' 

'And  what  is  that?'  answered  the  Colonel,  speaking  quick, 
and  with  something  of  harshness. 

'I  will  not  venture  to  name  it,  sir — but' — She  opened  a 
small  cabinet,  and  put  some  letters  into  his  hands:  'I  will 
give  you  these,  that  you  may  see  how  this  intimacy  began, 
and  by  whom  it  was  encouraged.' 

Mannering  took  the  packet  to  the  window — his  pride 
forbade  a  more  distant  retreat.  He  glanced  at  some  passages 
of  the  letters  with  an  unsteady  eye  and  an  agitated  mind. 
His  stoicism,  however,  came  in  time  to  his  aid — that  philoso- 
phy, which,  rooted  in  pride,  yet  frequently  bears  the  fruits 
of  virtue.  He  returned  towards  his  daughter  with  as  firm 
an  air  as  his  feelings  permitted  him  to  assume. 

'There  is  great  apology  for  you,  Julia,  as  far  as  I  can 
judge  from  a  glance  at  these  letters — you  have  obeyed  at 
least  one  parent.  Let  us  adopt  the  Scotch  proverb  the 
Dominie  quoted  the  other  day — "Let  bygones  be  bygones, 
and  fair  play  for  the  future." — I  will  never  upbraid  you 
with  your  past  want  of  confidence — do  you  judge  of  my 
future  intentions  by  my  actions,  of  which  hitherto  you  have 
surely  had  no  reason  to  complain.  Keep  these  letters — they 
were  never  intended  for  my  eye,  and  I  would  not  willingly 
read  more  of  them  than  I  have  done,  at  your  desire  and  for 
your  exculpation.  And  now,  are  we  friends?  or  rather,  do 
you  understand  me  ?' 

'O  my  dear,  generous  father,'  said  Julia,  throwing  herself 
into  his  arms,  'why  have  I  ever  for  an  instant  misunderstood 
you  ?' 

'No  more  of  that,  Julia,'  said  the  Colonel :  'we  have  both 
been  to  blame.  He  that  is  too  proud  to  vindicate  the  affection 
and  confidence  which  he  conceives  should  be  given  without 

D— 15 


428  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

solicitation,  must  meet  much,  and  perhaps  deserved  disap- 
pointment. It  is  enough  that  one  dearest  and  most  regretted 
member  of  my  family  has  gone  to  the  grave  without  knowing 
me;  let  me  not  lose  the  confidence  of  a  child,  who  ought  to 
love  me  if  she  really  loves  herself.' 

'Oh  !  no  danger — no  fear !'  answered  Julia — 'let  me  but 
have  your  approbation  and  my  own,  and  there  is  no  rule 
you  can  prescribe  so  severe  that  I  will  not  follow.' 

'Well,  my  love,'  kissing  her  forehead,  'I  trust  we  shall 
not  call  upon  you  for  anything  too  heroic.  With  respect 
to  this  young  gentleman's  addresses,  I  expect  in  the  first 
place  that  all  clandestine  correspondence — which  no  young 
woman  can  entertain  for  a  moment  without  lessening  herself 
in  her  own  eyes,  and  in  those  of  her  lover — I  request.  I 
say,  that  clandestine  correspondence  of  every  kind  may  be 
given  up,  and  that  you  will  refer  Mr.  Bertram  to  me  for 
the  reason.  You  will  naturally  wish  to  know  what  is  to  be 
the  issue  of  such  a  reference.  In  the  first  place,  I  desire 
to  observe  this  young  gentleman's  character  more  closely 
than  circumstances,  and  perhaps  my  own  prejudices,  have 
permitted  formerly — I  should  also  be  glad  to  see  his  birth 
established.  Not  that  I  am  anxious  about  his  getting  the 
estate  of  Ellangowan,  though  such  a  subject  is  held  in 
absolute  indifference  nowhere  except  in  a  novel ;  but  certainly 
Henry  Bertram,  heir  of  Ellangowan,  whether  possessed  of 
the  property  of  his  ancestors  or  not,  is  a  very  different 
person  from  Vanbeest  Brown,  the  son  of  nobody  at  all. 
His  fathers,  Mr.  Pleydell  tells  me,  are  distinguished  in  his- 
tory as  following  the  banners  of  their  native  princes,  while 
our  own  fought  at  Cressy  and  Poictiers.  In  short,  I  neither 
give  nor  withhold  my  approbation,  but  I  expect  you  will 
redeem  past  errors ;  and  as  you  can  now  unfortunately  have 
recourse  only  to  one  parent,  that  you  will  show  the  duty 
of  a  child,  by  reposing  that  confidence  in  me,  which  I  will 
say  my  inclination  to  make  you  happy  renders  a  filial  debt 
upon  your  part.' 

The  first  part  of  this  speech  affected  Julia  a  good  deal: 
the  comparative  merit  of  the  ancestors  of  the  Bertrams  and 
Mannerings  excited  a  secret  smile :  but  the  conclusion  was 
guch  as  to  soften  a  heart  peculiarly  open  to  the  feelings  of 


GUY    MANNERING  429 

generosity.  'No,  my  dear  sir,'  she  said,  extending  her  hand, 
'receive  my  faith,  that  from  this  moment  you  shall  be  the 
first  person  consulted  respecting  what  shall  pass  in  future 
between  Brown — I  mean  Bertram — and  me ;  and  that  no 
engagement  shall  be  undertaken  by  me,  excepting  what  you 
shall  immediately  know  and  approve  of.  I\'Iay  I  ask  if  Mr. 
Bertram  is  to  continue  a  guest  at  Woodbourne  ?' 

'Certainly,'  said  the  Colonel,  'while  his  affairs  render  it 
advisable.' 

'Then,  sir,  you  must  be  sensible,  considering  what  is 
already  past,  that  he  will  expect  some  reason  for  my  with- 
drawing— I  believe  I  must  say  the  encouragement,  which  he 
may  think  I  have  given.' 

'I  expect,  Julia,'  answered  Mannering,  'that  he  will  respect 
my  roof,  and  entertain  some  sense  perhaps  of  the  services 
I  am  desirous  to  render  him,  and  so  will  not  insist  upon  any 
course  of  conduct  of  which  I  might  have  reason  to  com- 
plain; and  I  expect  of  you,  that  you  will  make  him  sensible 
of  what  is  due  to  both.' 

"Then,  sir,  I  understand  you,  and  you  shall  be  implicitly 
obeyed.' 

'Thank  you,  my  love;  my  anxiety'  (kissing  her)  'is  on 
your  account. — Now  wipe  these  witnesses  from  your  eyes, 
and  so  to  breakfast.' 


CHAPTER    LII 

And,  Sheriff,  I  will  engage  my  word  to  you. 
That  I  will  by  to-morrow  dinner  time, 
Send  him  to  answer  thee,  or  any  man. 
For  any  thing  he  shall  be  charged  withal. 

First  Part  of  Henry  IV. 

WHEN  the  several  byplays,  as  they  may  be  termed, 
had  taken  place  among  the  individuals  of  the 
Woodbourne  family,  as  we  have  intimated  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  the  breakfast  party  at  length  assembled, 
Dandie  excepted,  who  had  consulted  his  taste  in  viands,  and 
perhaps  in  society,  by  partaking  of  a  cup  of  tea  with  Mrs. 
Allan,  just  laced  with  two  teaspoonfuls  of  Cogniac,  and  re- 
inforced with  various  slices  from  a  huge  round  of  beef.  He 
had  a  kind  of  feeling  that  he  could  eat  twice  as  much,  and 
speak  twice  as  much,  with  this  good  dame  and  Barnes,  as 
with  the  grand  folk  in  the  parlour.  Indeed,  the  meal  of  this 
less  distinguished  party  was  much  more  mirthful  than  that 
in  the  higher  circle,  where  there  was  an  obvious  air  of  con- 
straint on  the  greater  part  of  the  assistants.  Julia  dared 
not  raise  her  voice  in  asking  Bertram  if  he  chose  another 
cup  of  tea.  Bertram  felt  embarrassed  while  eating  his 
toast  and  butter  under  the  eye  of  Mannering.  Lucy,  while 
she  indulged  to  the  uttermost  her  affection  for  her  recovered 
brother,  began  to  think  of  the  quarrel  betwixt  him  and 
Hazlewood.  The  Colonel  felt  the  painful  anxiety  natural 
to  a  proud  mind,  when  it  deems  its  slightest  action  subject 
for  a  moment  to  the  watchful  construction  of  others.  The 
lawyer,  while  sedulously  buttering  his  roll,  had  an  aspect 
of  unwonted  gravity,  arising,  perhaps,  from  the  severity 
of  his  morning  studies.  As  for  the  Dominie,  his  state  of 
mind  was  ecstatic ! — He  looked  at  Bertram — he  looked  at 
Lucy — he  whimpered — he  sniggled — he  grinned — he  com- 
mitted all  manner  of  solecisms  in  point  of  form — poured  the 
y^'hole  cream   (no  unlucky  mistake)  upon  the  plate  of  por- 

430 


GUY    MANNERING  431 

ridge  which  was  his  own  usual  breakfast — threw  the  slops 
of  what  he  called  his  'crowning  dish  of  tea'  into  the  sugar- 
dish  instead  of  the  slop-basin,  and  concluded  with  spilling 
the  scalding  liquor  upon  old  Plato,  the  Colonel's  favourite 
spaniel,  who  received  the  libation  with  a  howl  that  did  little 
honour  to  his  philosophy. 

The  Colonel's  equanimity  was  rather  shaken  by  this  last 
blunder,  'Upon  my  word,  my  good  friend,  Mr.  Sampson, 
you  forget  the  difference  between  Plato  and  Zenocrates.' 

'The  former  was  chief  of  the  Academics,  the  latter  of 
the  Stoics,'  said  the  Dominie,  with  some  scorn  of  the  sup- 
position. 

'Yes,  my  dear  sir,  but  it  was  Zenocrates,  not  Plato,  who 
denied  that  pain  was  an  evil.' 

T  should  have  thought,'  said  Pleydell,  'that  very  respect- 
able quadruped,  which  is  just  now  limping  out  of  the  room 
upon  three  of  his  four  legs,  was  rather  of  the  Cynic  school.' 

'Very  well  hit  off But   here   comes   an   answer   from 

Mac-Morlan.' 

It  was  unfavourable.  Mrs.  Mac-Morlan  sent  her  respect- 
ful compliments,  and  her  husband  had  been,  and  was,  de- 
tained by  some  alarming  disturbances  which  had  taken  place 
the  preceding  night  at  Portanferry,  and  the  necessary  investi- 
gation which  they  had  occasioned. 

'What's  to  be  done  now.  counsellor?'  said  the  Colonel  to 
Pleydell. 

'Why,  I  wish  we  could  have  seen  Mac-Morlan,'  said  the 
counsellor,  'who  is  a  sensible  fellow  himself,  and  would, 
besides,  have  acted  under  my  advice.  But  there  is  little 
harm.  Our  friend  here  must  be  made  stii  juris:  he  is  at 
present  an  escaped  prisoner;  the  law  has  an  awkward  claim 
upon  him — he  must  be  placed  rectus  in  curia, — that  is  the 
first  object.  For  which  purpose.  Colonel,  I  will  accompany 
you  in  your  carriage  down  to  Hazlewood-Iiouse ; — the  dis- 
tance is  not  great.  We  will  offer  our  bail ;  and  I  am  con- 
fident   I   can   easily   show    Mr. I    beg   his   pardon — Sir 

Robert   Hazlewood,  the  necessity  of  receiving  it.' 

'With  all  my  heart,'  said  the  Colonel ;  and,  ringing  the 
bell,  gave  the  necessary  orders.  'x\nd  what  is  next  to  be 
done  ?' 


4.32  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'We  must  get  hold  of  Mac-Morlan,  and  look  out  for  more 
proof.' 

'Proof!'  said  the  Colonel;  'the  thing  is  as  clear  as  day- 
light;— here  are  Mr.  Sampson  and  Miss  Bertram,  and  you 
yourself,  at  once  recognize  the  young  gentleman  as  his 
father's  image ;  and  he  himself  recollects  all  the  very  peculiar 
circumstances  preceding  his  leaving  this  country — What  else 
is  necessary  to  conviction?' 

'To  moral  conviction  nothing  more,  perhaps,'  said  the 
experienced  lawyer,  'but  for  legal  proof  a  great  deal.  Mr. 
Bertram's  recollections  are  his  own  recollections  merely; 
and  therefore  are  not  evidence  in  his  own  favour;  Miss 
Bertram,  the  learned  Mr.  Sampson,  and  I,  can  only  say, 
what  every  one  who  knew  the  late  EUangowan  will  readily 
agree  in,  that  this  gentleman  is  his  very  picture — But  that 
will  not  make  him  Ellangowan's  son,  and  give  him  the 
estate.' 

'And  what  will  do  so  ?'  said  the  Colonel. 

'Why,  we  must  have  a  distinct  probation. — There  are 
these  gipsies, — but  then,  alas !  they  are  almost  infamous 
in  the  eye  of  the  law — scarce  capable  of  bearing  evidence, 
and  Meg  Merrilies  utterly  so,  by  the  various  accounts  which 
she  formerly  gave  of  the  matter,  and  her  impudent  denial 
of  all  knowledge  of  the  fact  when  I  myself  examined  her 
respecting  it.' 

'What  must  be  done  then?'  asked  Mannering. 

'We  must  try.'  answered  the  legal  sage,  'what  proof  can 
be  got  at  in  Holland,  among  the  persons  by  whom  our  young 
friend  was  educated. — But  then  the  fear  of  being  called  in 
question  for  the  murder  of  the  gauger  may  make  them 
silent;  or  if  they  speak,  they  are  either  foreigners  or  out- 
lawed smugglers.    In  short,  I  see  doubts.' 

'Under  favour,  most  learned  and  honoured  sir,'  said  the 
Dominie,  '1  trust  He,  who  hath  restored  little  Harry  Bertram 
to  his  friends,  will  not  leave  his  own  work  imperfect.' 

'I  trust  so  too,  Mr.  Sampson.'  said  Pleydell;  'but  we  must 
use  the  means ;  and  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  more  difficulty 
in  procuring  them  than  I  at  first  thought — But  a  faint  heart 
never  won  a  fair  lady— And,  by  the  way' (apart  to  Miss 
Mannering,   while   Bertram  was  engaged  with  his  sister), 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  433 

'there's  a  vindication  of  Holland  for  you ! — what  smart 
fellows  do  you  think  Leyden  and  Utrecht  must  send  forth, 
when  such  a  very  genteel  and  handsome  young  man  comes 
from  the  paltry  schools  of  Middleburgh?' 

'Of  a  verity,'  said  the  Dominie,  jealous  of  the  reputation 
of  the  Dutch  seminary — 'of  a  verity,  Mr.  Pleydell,  but  I 
make  it  known  to  you  that  I  myself  laid  the  foundation  of 
his  education.' 

'True,  my  dear  Dominie,'  answered  the  advocate ;  'that 
accounts  for  his  proficiency  in  the  graces,  without  question. 
— But  here  come  your  carriage.  Colonel.  Adieu,  young 
folks ;  Miss  Julia,  keep  your  heart  till  I  come  back  again — 
let  there  be  nothing  done  to  prejudice  my  right,  whilst  I 
am  non  valens  agere.' 

Their  reception  at  Hazlewood-House  was  more  cold  and 
formal  than  usual ;  for  in  general  the  Baronet  expressed 
great  respect  for  Colonel  Mannering,  and  Mr.  Pleydell, 
besides  being  a  man  of  good  family  and  of  high  general 
estimation,  was  Sir  Robert's  old  friend.  But  now  he  seemed 
dry  and  embarrassed  in  his  manner.  'He  would  willingly,' 
he  said,  'receive  bail,  notwithstanding  that  the  offence  had 
been  directly  perpetrated,  committed,  and  done,  against 
young  Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood ;  but  the  young  man  had 
given  himself  a  fictitious  description,  and  was  altogether 
that  sort  of  person  who  should  not  be  liberated,  discharged, 
or  let  loose  upon  society ;  and  therefore ' 

'I  hope.  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood.'  said  the  Colonel,  'you 
do  not  mean  to  doubt  my  word,  when  I  assure  you  that 
he  served  under  me  as  a  cadet  in  India?' 

'By  no  means  or  account  whatsoever.  But  you  call 
him  a  cadet ;  now  he  says,  avers,  and  upholds,  that  he 
was  a  captain,  or  held  a  troop  in  your  regiment.' 

'He  was  promoted  since  I  gave  up  the  command.' 

'But  you  must  have  heard  of  it?' 

'No.  I  returned  on  account  of  family  circumstances 
from  India,  and  have  not  since  been  solicitous  to  hear 
particular  news  from  the  regiment ;  the  name  of  Brown, 
too,  is  so  common,  that  I  might  have  seen  his  promotion  in 
the  Gazette  without  noticing  it.  But  a  day  or  two  will 
bring  letters  from  his  commanding  officer,' 


434  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'But  I  am  told  and  informed,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  answered 
Sir  Robert,  still  hesitating,  'that  he  does  not  mean  to  abide 
by  this  name  of  Brown,  but  is  to  set  up  a  claim  to  the 
estate  of  EUangowan  under  the  name  of  Bertram.' 

'Aye?  who  says  that?'  said  the  counsellor. 

'Or,'  demanded  the  soldier,  'whoever  says  so,  does  that 
give  a  right  to  keep  him  in  prison?' 

'Hush,  Colonel,'  said  the  lawyer;  'I  am  sure  you  would 
not,  any  more  than  I,  countenance  him,  if  he  prove  an 
impostor. — And,  among  friends,  who  informed  you  of  this, 
Sir  Robert?' 

'Why,  a  person,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  answered  the  Baronet, 
'who  is  peculiarly  interested  in  investigating,  sifting,  and 
clearing  out  this  business  to  the  bottom — you  will  excuse 
my  being  more  particular.' 

'Oh,  certainly,'  replied  Pleydell ;— 'well,  and  he  says  ? ' 

*He  says  that  it  is  whispered  about  among  tinkers, 
gipsies,  and  other  idle  persons,  that  there  is  such  a  plan 
as  I  mentioned  to  you,  and  that  this  young  man,  who 
is  a  bastard  or  natural  son  of  the  late  EUangowan,  is 
pitched  upon  as  the  impostor,  from  his  strong  family  like- 
ness.' 

'And  was  there  such  a  natural  son,  Sir  Robert  ?'  demanded 
the  counsellor, 

'Oh.  certainly,  to  my  own  positive  knowledge.  EUan- 
gowan had  him  placed  as  cabin-boy  or  powder-monkey 
on  board  an  armed  sloop  or  yacht  belonging  to  the  revenue, 
through  the  interest  of  the  late  Commissioner  Bertram  a 
kinsman   of   his  own.' 

'Well,  Sir  Robert,'  said  the  lawyer,  taking  the  word  out 
of  the  mouth  of  the  impatient  soldier— 'you  have  told  me 
news;  I  shall  investigate  them,  and  if  I  find  them  true, 
certainly  Colonel  Mannering  and  I  will  not  countenance 
this  young  man.  In  the  meanwhile,  as  we  are  all  willing 
to  make  him  forthcoming,  to  answer  all  complaints  against 
him,  I  do  assure  you  you  will  act  most  illegally,  and  incur 
heavy  responsibility,   if  you   refuse  our  bail.' 

'Why,  Mr.  Pleydell'  said  Sir  Robert,  who  knew  the 
high  authority  of  the  counsellor's  opinion,  'as  you  know 
best,  and  as  you  promise  to  give  up  this  young  man ' 


GUY    MANNERIN'G  135 

'If  he  proves  an  impostor/  replied  the  lawyer,  with  some 
emphasis. 

"Aye,  certainly — mider  that  condition  I  will  take  your 
bail ;  though  I  must  say,  an  obliging,  well-disposed,  and 
civil  neighbour  of  mine,  who  was  himself  bred  to  the 
law,  gave  me  a  hint  or  caution  this  morning  against 
doing  so.  It  was  from  him  I  learned  that  this  youth 
was  liberated  and  had  come  abroad,  or  rather  had  broken 
prison. — But  where  shall  we  find  one  to  draw  the  bail- 
bond?' 

"Here,'  said  the  counsellor,  applying  himself  to  the  bell, 
'send  up  my  clerk,  Mr.  Driver — it  will  not  do  my  character 
harm  if  I  dictate  the  needful  myself.'  It  was  written  ac- 
cordingly, and  signed ;  and  the  Justice  having  subscribed 
a  regular  warrant  for  Bertram  alias  Brown's  discharge,  the 
visitors  took  their  leave. 

Each  threw  himself  into  his  own  corner  of  the  post- 
chanot,  and  said  nothing  for  some  time.  The  Colonel  first 
broke  silence :  'So  you  intend  to  give  up  this  poor  young 
fellow  at  the  first  brush  ?' 

"Who.  I?'  replied  the  counsellor;  'I  will  not  give  up 
one  hair  of  his  head,  though  I  should  follow  them  to  the 
court  of  last  resort  in  his  behalf — but  what  signified  mooting 
points  and  showing  one's  hand  to  that  old  ass?  Much 
better  he  should  report  to  his  prompter,  Glossin,  that  we 
are  indifferent  or  lukewarm  in  the  matter.  Besides,  I 
wished  to  have  a  peep  at  the  enemies'  game.' 

'Indeed  !'  said  the  soldier.  'Then  I  see  there  are  strata- 
gems in  law  as  well  as  war.  Well,  and  how  do  you  like 
their  line   of  battle?' 

'Ingenious,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell,  'but  I  think  desperate ; 
they  are  finessing  too  much — a  common  fault  on  such  oc- 
casions.' 

During  this  discourse  the  carriage  rolled  rapidly  towards 
Woodbourne  without  anything  occurring  worthy  of  the 
reader's  notice,  excepting  their  meeting  with  young  Hazle- 
wood,  to  whom  the  Colonel  told  the  extraordinary  history 
of  Bertram's  reappearance,  which  he  heard  with  high  de- 
light, and  then  rode  on  before  to  pay  Miss  Bertram  his 
compliments  on  an  event  so  happy  and  so  unexpected. 


436  SIR    WALTER   SCOTT 

We  return  to  the  party  at  Woodbourne.  After  the  de- 
parture of  Mannering,  the  conversation  related  chiefly  to 
the  fortunes  of  the  Ellangowan  family,  their  domains, 
and  their  former  power.  'It  was,  then,  under  the  towers 
of  my  fathers,'  said  Bertram,  'that  I  landed  some  days 
since,  in  circumstances  much  resembling  those  of  a  vaga- 
bond? Its  mouldering  turrets  and  darksome  arches  even 
then  awakened  thoughts  of  the  deepest  interest,  and  recol- 
lections which  I  was  unable  to  decipher.  I  will  now  visit 
them  again  with  other  feelings,  and,  I  trust,  other  and 
better  hopes.' 

'Do  not  go  there  now,'  said  his  sister-  'The  house  of 
our  ancestors  is  at  present  the  habitation  of  a  wretch  as 
insidious  as  dangerous,  whose  arts  and  villany  accomplished 
the  ruin  and  broke  the  heart  of  our  unhappy  father.' 

'You  increase  my  anxiety,'  replied  her  brother,  'to  con- 
front this  miscreant,  even  in  the  den  he  has  constructed 
for  himself — I  think   I  have  seen  him.' 

But  you  must  consider,'  said  Julia,  'that  you  are  now 
left  under  Lucy's  guard  and  mine,  and  are  responsible  to 
us  for  all  your  motions — consider  I  have  not  been  a  lawyer's 
mistress  twelve  hours  for  nothing,  and  I  assure  you  it 
would  be  madness  to  attempt  to  go  to  Ellangowan  just 
now. — The  utmost  to  which  I  can  consent  is,  that  we  shall 
walk  in  a  body  to  the  head  of  the  Woodbourne  avenue,  and 
from  that  perhaps  we  may  indulge  you  with  our  company 
as  far  as  a  rising  ground  in  the  common,  whence  your  eyes 
may  be  blessed  with  a  distant  prospect  of  those  gloomy 
towers,  which  struck  so  strongly  your  sympathetic  imagina- 
tion.' 

The  party  was  speedily  agreed  upon,  and  the  ladies, 
having  taken  their  cloaks,  followed  the  route  proposed, 
under  the  escort  of  Captain  Bertram.  It  was  a  pleasant 
winter  morning,  and  the  cool  breeze  served  only  to  freshen, 
not  to  chill,  the  fair  walkers.  A  secret  though  unacknowl- 
edged bond  of  kindness  combined  the  two  ladies?  and  Bert- 
ram, now  hearing  the  interesting  accounts  of  his  own 
family,  now  communicating  his  adventures  in  Europe  and 
in  India,  repaid  the  pleasure  which  he  received.  Lucy 
felt  proud  of  her  brother,  as  well  from  the  bold  and  manly 


GUY    MAXNERING  437 

turn  of  his  sentiments,  as  from  the  dangers  he  had  en- 
countered, and  the  spirit  with  which  he  had  surmounted 
them.  And  Julia,  while  she  pondered  on  her  father's 
words,  could  not  help  entertaining  hopes,  that  the  inde- 
pendent spirit  which  had  seemed  to  her  father  presumption 
in  the  humble  and  plebeian  Brown,  would  have  the  grace 
of  courage,  noble  bearing,  and  high  blood,  in  the  far-de- 
scended heir  of  Ellangowan. 

They  reached  at  length  the  little  eminence  or  knoll  upon 
the  highest  part  of  the  common,  called  Gibbie's-knowe — 
a  spot  repeatedly  mentioned  in  this  history,  as  being  on 
the  skirts  of  the  Ellangowan  estate.  It  commanded  a  fair 
variety  of  hill  and  dale,  bordered  with  natural  woods, 
whose  naked  boughs  at  this  season  relieved  the  general 
colour  of  the  landscape  with  a  dark  purple  hue;  while 
in  other  places  the  prospect  was  more  formally  intersected 
by  lines  of  plantation,  where  the  Scotch  firs  displayed  their 
variety  of  dusky  green.  At  the  distance  of  two  or  three 
miles  lay  the  bay  of  Ellangowan,  its  waves  rippling  under 
the  influence  of  the  western  breeze.  The  towers  of  the 
ruined  castle,  seen  high  over  every  object  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, received  a  brighter  colouring  from  the  wintry 
sun. 

'There,'  said  Lucy  Bertram,  pointing  them  out  in  the 
distance,  'there  is  the  seat  of  our  ancestors.  God  knows 
my  dear  brother,  I  do  not  covet  in  your  behalf  the  exten- 
sive power  which  the  lords  of  these  ruins  are  said  to  have 
possessed  so  long,  and  sometimes  to  have  used  so  ill.  But, 
oh  that  I  might  see  you  in  possession  of  such  relics  of  their 
fortune  as  should  give  you  an  honourable  independence, 
and  enable  you  to  stretch  your  hand  for  the  protection 
of  the  old  and  destitute  dependants  of  our  family,  whom 
our   poor   father's   death ' 

'True,  my  dearest  Lucy,*  answered  the  young  heir  of 
Ellangowan ;  'and  I  trust,  with  the  assistance  of  Heaven, 
which  has  so  far  guided  us,  and  with  that  of  these  good 
friends,  whom  their  own  generous  hearts  have  interested 
in  my  behalf,  such  a  consummation  of  my  hard  adventures 
is  now  not  unlikely. — But  as  a  soldier,  I  must  look  with 
some  interest  upon  the  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone; 


438 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 


and  if  this  undermining-scoundrel,  who  is  now  in  possession, 
dare  to  displace  a  pebble  of  it ' 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  Dinmont,  who  came  hastily- 
after  them  up  the  road,  unseen  till  he  was  near  the  party: — 
'Captain,  Captain  !  ye're  wanted — Ye're  wanted  by  her  ye 
ken  o'.' 

And  immediately  Meg  Merrilies,  as  if  emerging  out  of 
the  earth,  ascended  from  the  hollow  way,  and  stood  before 
them.  'I  sought  ye  at  the  house,'  she  said,  'and  found 
but  him'  (pointing  to  Dinmont).  'But  ye  are  right,  and 
I  was  wrang;  it  is  here  we  should  meet — on  this  very  spot, 
where  my  eyes  last  saw  your  father.  Remember  your 
promise,  and   follow  ma,' 


CHAPTER   LIII 

To   hail   the   king  in   seemly  sort 

The   ladie   was   full   fain 
But   King  Arthur,    all   sore   amazed, 

No   answer   made   again. 
'What  wight  art  thou,'  the  ladie  said, 

'That  will  not  speak  to  me? 
Sir,  I  may  chance  to  ease  thy  pain, 

Though    I   be   foul   to   see.' 

The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawaine. 

THE  fairy  bride  of  Sir  Gawaine,  while  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  spell  of  her  wicked  stepmother,  was 
more  decrepit  probably,  and  what  is  commonly  called 
more  ugly,  than  Meg  Merillies;  but  I  doubt  if  she  possessed 
that  wild  sublimity  which  an  excited  imagination  communi- 
cated to  features,  marked  and  expressive  in  their  own  pe- 
culiar character,  and  to  the  gestures  of  a  form,  which,  her 
sex  considered,  might  be  termed  gigantic.  Accordingly, 
the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  did  not  recoil  with  more 
terror  from  the  apparation  of  the  loathly  lady  placed  between 
'an  oak  and  a  green  holl)','  than  Lucy  Bertram  and  Julia 
Mannering  did  from  the  appearance  of  this  Galwegian  sibyl 
upon  the  common  of  Ellangowan. 

'For  God's  sake,'  said  Julia,  pulling  out  her  purse,  'give 
that  dreadful  woman  something,  and  bid  her  go  away.' 

'I  cannot,'  said  Bertram ;  'I  must  not  offend  her.' 

'What  keeps  you  here?'  said  Meg,  exalting  the  harsh 
and  rough  tones  of  her  hollow  voice  —  'why  do  you  not 
follow? — Must  your  hour  call  you  twice?  Do  you  remember 
your  oath? — were  it  at  kirk  or  market,  wedding  or  burial,' 
— and  she  held  high  her  skinny  forefinger  in  a  menacing 
attitude. 

Bertram  turned  round  to  his  terrified  companions.  "Ex- 
cuse me  for  a  moment ;  I  am  engaged  by  a  promise  to  follow 
this  woman.' 

'Good  heavens !  engaged  to  a  madwoman  ?'  said  Julia. 

439 


4iO  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Or  to  a  gipsy,  who  has  her  band  in  the  wood  ready  to 
murder  you !'  said  Lucy. 

'That  was  not  spoken  like  a  bairn  of  Ellangowan,'  said 
Meg,  frowning  upon  Miss  Bertram.  'It  is  the  ill-doers 
are  ill-dreaders.' 

'In  short,  I  must  go,'  said  Bertram — 'it  is  absolutely 
necessary;  wait  for  me  five  minutes  on  this  spot.' 

'Five  minutes?'  said  the  gipsy, — 'five  hours  may  not  bring 
you   here    again.' 

'Do  you  hear  that?'  said  Julia;  'for  Heaven's  sake  do 
not  go !' 

'I  must,  I  must — Mr.  Dinmont  will  protect  you  back  to 
the  house.' 

'No,'  said  Meg,  'he  must  come  with  you — it  is  for  that 
he  is  here.  He  maun  take  part  wi'  hand  and  heart;  and 
weel  his  part  it  is,  for  redding  his  quarrel  might  have  cost 
you  dear.' 

'Troth,  Luckie,  it's  very  true,'  said  the  steady  farmer; 
'and  ere  I  turn  back  frae  the  Captain's  side,  I'll  show  that 
I   haena   forgotten't.' 

'Oh,  yes !'  exclaimed  both  the  ladies  at  once — 'let  Mr. 
Dinmont  go  with  you,  if  go  you  must,  on  this  strange 
summons.' 

'Indeed  I  must,'  answered  Bertram,  'but  you  see  I  am 
safely  guarded — Adieu  for  a  short  time;  go  home  as  fast 
as  you  can.' 

He  pressed  his  sister's  hand,  and  took  a  yet  more  affec- 
tionate farewell  of  Julia  with  his  eyes.  Almost  stupefied 
with  surprise  and  fear,  the  young  ladies  watched  with  anx- 
ious looks  the  course  of  Bertram,  his  companion,  and 
their  extraordinary  guide.  Her  tall  figure  moved  across 
the  wintry  heath  with  steps  so  swift,  so  long,  and  so  steady, 
that  she  appeared  rather  to  glide  than  to  walk.  Bertram 
and  Dinmont,  both  tall  men,  apparently  scarce  equalled 
her  in  height,  owing  to  her  longer  dress  and  high  head- 
gear. She  proceeded  straight  across  the  common,  without 
turning  aside  to  the  winding  path,  by  which  passengers 
avoided  the  inequalities  and  little  rills  that  traversed  it 
in  different  directions.  Thus  the  diminishing  figures  often 
disappeared  from  the  eye,  as  they  dived  into  such  broken 


GUY    MANNERIXG  441 

ground,  and  again  ascended  to  sight  when  they  were  past 
the  hollow.  There  was  something  frightful  and  unearthly, 
as  it  were,  in  the  rapid  and  undeviating  course  which  she 
pursued,  undeterred  by  any  of  the  impediments  which  usually 
incline  a  traveller  from  the  direct  path.  Her  way  was 
as  straight,  and  nearly  as  swift,  as  that  of  a  bird  through 
the  air. 

At  length  they  reached  those  thickets  of  natural  wood 
which  extended  from  the  skirts  of  the  common  towards  the 
glades  and  brook  of  Derncleugh,  and  were  there  lost  to 
the  view. 

'This  is  very  extraordinary !'  said  Lucy,  after  a  pause, 
and  turning  round  to  her  companion — 'What  can  he  have 
to  do  with  that  old  hag?' 

'It  is  very  frightful,'  answered  Julia,  'and  almost  reminds 
me  of  the  tales  of  sorceresses,  witches,  and  evil  genii,  which 
I  have  heard  in  India.  They  believe  there  is  a  fascination 
of  the  eye,  by  which  those  who  possess  it  control  the  will 
and  dictate  the  motions  of  their  victims.  What  can  your 
brother  have  in  common  with  that  fearful  woman,  that 
he  should  leave  us,  obviously  against  his  will,  to  attend 
to  her  commands?* 

'At  least,'  said  Lucy,  'we  may  hold  him  safe  from  harm ; 
for  she  would  never  have  summoned  that  faithful  creature 
Dinmont,  of  whose  strength,  courage,  and  steadiness,  Henry 
said  so  much,  to  attend  upon  an  expedition  where  she  pro- 
jected evil  to  the  person  of  his  friend.  And  now  let  us 
go  back  to  the  house  till  the  Colonel  returns ; — perhaps 
Bertram  may  be  back  first ;  at  any  rate,  the  Colonel  will 
judge  what  is  to  be  done.' 

Leaning  then  upon  each  other's  arm,  but  yet  occasionally 
stumbling,  between  fear  and  the  disorder  of  their  nerves, 
they  at  length  reached  the  head  of  the  avenue,  when  they 
heard  the  tread  of  a  horse  behind.  They  started,  for  their 
ears  were  awake  to  every  sound,  and  beheld  to  their  great 
pleasure  young  Hazlewood.  'The  Colonel  will  be  here 
immediately,'  he  said ;  'I  galloped  on  before  to  pay  my 
respects  to  Miss  Bertram,  with  the  sincerest  congratula- 
tions upon  the  joyful  event  which  has  taken  place  in  her 
family.     I  long  to  be  introduced  to  Captain   Bertram,   and 


442  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

to  thank  him  for  the  well-deserved  lesson  he  gave  to  my 
rashness  and  indiscretion.' 

'He  has  left  us  just  now,'  said  Lucy,  'and  in  a  manner 
that  has  frightened  us  very  much.' 

Just  at  that  moment  the  Colonel's  carriage  drove  up, 
and,  on  observing  the  ladies,  stopped,  while  Mannering 
and  his  learned  counsel  alighted  and  joined  them.  They 
instantly  communicated  the  new  cause  of  alarm. 

'Meg  Merrilies  again  !'  said  the  Colonel.  'She  certainly 
is  a  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable  personage;  but 
I  think  she  must  have  something  to  impart  to  Bertram, 
to  which  she  does  not  mean  we  should  be  privy.' 

'The  devil  take  the  bedlamite  old  woman  !'  said  the  coun- 
sellor :  'will  she  not  let  things  take  their  course,  prout  dc  lege, 
but  must  always  be  putting  in  her  oar  in  her  own  way? 
— Then  I  fear,  from  the  direction  they  took  they  are  go- 
ing upon  the  Ellangowan  estate.  That  rascal  Glossin  has 
shown  us  what  ruffians  he  has  at  his  disposal  —  I  wish 
honest  Liddesdale  may  be  guard  sufficient.' 

'If  you  please,'  said  Hazlewood,  'I  should  be  most 
happy  to  ride  in  the  direction  which  they  have  taken.  I 
am  so  well  known  in  the  country,  that  I  scarce  think 
any  outrage  will  be  offered  in  my  presence,  and  I  shall 
keep  at  such  a  cautious  distance  as  not  to  appear  to 
watch  Meg,  or  interrupt  any  communication  which  she 
may  make.' 

'Upon  my  word,'  said  Pleydell  (aside),  'to  be  a  sprig, 
whom  I  remember  with  a  whey  face  and  a  satchel  not  so 
very  many  years  ago,  I  think  young  Hazlewood  grows 
a  fine  fellow. — I  am  more  afraid  of  a  new  attempt  at  legal 
oppression  than  at  open  violence,  and  from  that  this  young 
man's  presence  would  deter  both  Glossin  and  his  under- 
strappers. Hie  away  then,  my  boy — peer  out — peer  out; — 
you'll  find  them  somewhere  about  Derncleugh,  or  very 
probably  in  Warroch-wood.' 

Hazlewood  turned  his  horse.  'Come  back  to  us  to  dinner, 
Hazlewood,'  cried  the  Colonel.  He  bowed,  spurred  his 
horse,  and  galloped  off. 

We  now  return  to  Bertram  and  Dinmont,  who  continued 
to    follow   their   mysterious   guide   through   the   woods   and 


GUY    MANNERING  443 

dingles,  between  the  open  common  and  the  ruined  hamlet 
of  Dernclcugh.  As  she  led  the  way,  she  never  looked  back 
upon  her  followers,  unless  to  chide  them  for  loitering, 
though  the  sweat,  in  spite  of  the  season,  poured  from  their 
brows.  At  other  times  she  spoke  to  herself  in  such  broken 
expressions  as  these : — 'It  is  to  rebuild  the  auld  house — 
it  is  to  lay  the  corner  stone — and  did  I  not  warn  him? — 
I  tell'd  him  I  was  born  to  do  it,  if  my  father's  head  had 
been  the  stepping-stane,  let  alane  his.  I  was  doomed — 
still  I  kept  my  purpose  in  the  cage  and  in  the  stocks; — 
I  was  banished — I  kept  it  in  an  unco  land ; — I  was  scourged 
— I  was  branded — my  resolution  lay  deeper  than  scourge 
or  red  iron  could  reach — and  now  the  hour  is  come !' 

'Captain,'  said  Dinmont,  in  a  half  whisper,  'I  wish  she 
binna  uncanny !  her  words  dinna  seem  to  come  in  God's 
name,  or  like  other  folk's.  Od,  they  threep  in  our  country 
that  there  arc  sic  things.' 

'Don't  be  afraid,  my  friend,*  whispered  Bertram  in  re- 
turn. 

'Fear'd  !  fient  a  haet  care  1/  said  the  dauntless  farmer: 
'be  she  witch  or  deevil,  it  's  a'  ane  to  Dandie  Dinmont.' 

'Hand  your  peace,  gudeman,'  said  Meg,  looking  sternly 
over  her  shoulder;  'is  this  a  time  or  place  for  you  to  speak, 
think  ye?' 

'But,  my  good  friend,"  said  Bertram,  'as  I  have  no  doubt 
in  your  good  faith,  or  kindness,  which  I  have  experienced, 
you  should  in  return  have  some  confidence  in  me — T  wish 
to  know  where  you  are  leading  us.' 

'There's  but  ae  answer  to  that,  Henry  Bertram,'  said 
the  sibyl. — 'I  swore  my  tongue  should  never  tell,  but  I 
never  said  my  finger  should  never  show.  Go  on  and  meet 
your  fortune,  or  turn  back  and  lose  it — that's  a'  I  hae 
to  say.' 

'Go  on  then,'  answered  Bertram ;  'I  will  ask  no  more 
questions.' 

They  descended  into  the  glen  about  the  same  place  where 
Meg  had  formerly  parted  from  Bertram.  She  paused  an 
instant  beneath  the  tall  rock  where  he  had  witnessed  the 
burial  of  a  dead  body,  and  stamped  upon  the  ground,  which, 
notwithstanding  all   the  care  that  had  been  taken,   showed 


444  SIR    WALTER    SCOT'i 

vestiges  of  having  been  recently  moved.     'Here  rests  ane,' 
she   said ;   'he'll   maybe   hae   neibors   sune.' 

She  then  moved  up  the  brook  until  she  came  to  the  ruined 
hamlet,  where,  pausing  with  a  look  of  peculiar  and  softened 
interest  before  one  of  the  gables  which  was  still  standing, 
she  said,  in  a  tone  less  abrupt,  though  as  solemn  as  before, 
'Do  you  see  that  blackit  and  broken  end  of  a  sheeling?— 
There  my  kettle  boiled  for  forty  years — there  I  bore  twelve 
buirdly  sons  and  daughters — where  are  they  now? — Where 
are  the  leaves  that  were  on  that  auld  ash-tree  at  Mar- 
tinmas ! — the  west  wind  has  made  it  bare — and  I'm  stripped 
too. — Do  you  see  that  saugh-tree? — it's  but  a  blackened 
rotten  stump  now — I've  sat  under  it  mony  a  bonnie  sum- 
mer afternoon,  when  it  hung  its  gay  garlands  ower  the 
poppling  water — I've  sat  there,  and'  (elevating  her  voice) 
'I've  held  you  on  my  knee,  Henry  Bertram,  and  sung  ye 
sangs  of  the  auld  barons  and  their  bloody  wars — It  will 
ne'er  be  green  again,  and  Meg  Merrilies  will  never  sing 
sangs  mair,  be  they  blithe  or  sad.  But  ye'll  no  forget  her? 
— and  ye'll  gar  big  up  the  auld  wa's  for  her  sake? —  and 
let  somebody  live  there  that's  ower  gude  to  fear  them  of 
another  warld — For  if  ever  the  dead  came  back  amang 
the  living,  I'll  be  seen  in  this  glen  mony  a  night  after  these 
crazed  banes  are  in  the  mould.' 

The  mixture  of  -insanity  and  wild  pathos  with  which  she 
spoke  these  last  words,  with  her  right  arm  bare  and  extended, 
her  left  bent  and  shrouded  beneath  the  dark  red  drapery 
of  her  mantle,  might  have  been  a  study  worthy  of  our  Sid- 
dons  herself.  'And  now,'  she  said,  resuming  at  once  the 
short,  stern,  and  hasty  tone  which  was  most  ordinary  to  her 
— 'let  us  to  the  wark — let  us  to  the  wark.' 

She  then  led  the  way  to  the  promontory  on  which  the  Kaim 
of  Derncleugh  was  situated,  produced  a  large  key  from  her 
pocket,  and  unlocked  the  door.  The  interior  of  this  place 
was  in  better  order  than  formerly.  'I  have  made  things 
decent,'  she  said ;  'I  may  be  streekit  here  or  night.  There 
will  be  few,  few  at  Meg's  lykewake,  for  mony  of  our  folk 
will  blame  what  I  hae  done,  and  am  to  do  !' 

She  then  pointed  to  a  table,  upon  which  was  some  cold 
meat,  arranged  with  more  attention  to  neatness  than  could 


GUY    MANNERIXG  445 

have  been  expected  from  Meg's  habits.  'Eat,'  she  said,  'eat ; 
— ye'll  need  it  this  night  yet.' 

Bertram,  in  com])laisancc,  ate  a  morsel  or  two;  and  Din- 
mont,  whose  appetite  was  unabated  either  by  wonder,  ap- 
prehension, or  the  meal  of  the  morning,  made  his  usual  figure 
as  a  trencher-man.  She  then  offered  each  a  single  glass  of 
spirits,  which  Bertram  drank  diluted,  and  his  companion 
plain. 

'Will  ye  taste  naething  yoursell,  Luckie?'  said  Dinmont. 

'I  shall  not  need  it,'  replied  their  mysterious  hostess.  'And 
now,'  she  said,  'ye  maun  hae  arms — ye  maunna  gang  on 
dry-handed ; — but  use  them  not  rashly — take  captive,  but 
save  life — let  the  law  hae  its  ain — he  maun  speak  ere  he  die.' 

'Who  is  to  be  taken? — who  is  to  speak?'  said  Bertram  in 
astonishment,  receiving  a  pair  of  pistols  which  she  offered 
him,  and  which,  upon  examining,  he  founded  loaded  and 
locked. 

'The  flinks  are  gude,'  she  said,  'and  the  powder  dry — I  ken 
this  wark  week' 

Then,  without  answering  his  questions,  she  armed  Din- 
mont also  with  a  large  pistol,  and  desired  them  to  choose 
sticks  for  themselves,  out  of  a  parcel  of  very  suspicious- 
looking  bludgeons  which  she  brought  from  a  corner.  Ber- 
tram took  a  stout  sapling,  and  Dandie  selected  a  club  which 
might  have  served  Hercules  himself.  They  then  left  the  hut 
together,  and,  in  doing  so,  Bertram  took  an  opportunity  to 
whisper  to  Dinmont.  'There's  something  inexplicable  in 
all  this — But  we  need  not  use  these  arms  unless  we  sec 
necessity  and  lawful  occasion — take  care  to  do  as  you  see 
me  do.' 

Dinmont  gave  a  sagacious  nod ;  and  they  continued  to 
follow,  over  wet  and  over  dry,  through  bog  and  through 
fallow,  the  footsteps  of  their  conductress.  She  guided  them 
to  the  wood  of  Warroch  by  the  same  track  which  the  late 
Ellangowan  had  used  when  riding  to  Derncleugh  in  quest  of 
his  child,  on  the  miserable  evening  of  Kennedy's  murder. 

When  Meg  Merrilies  had  attained  these  groves,  through 
which  the  wintry  sea-wind  was  now  whistling  hoarse  and 
shrill,  she  seemed  to  pause  a  moment  as  if  to  recollect  the 
way.     'We  maun  go  the  precise  track,'  she  said,  and  con- 


446  SIR   WALTER    SCOTT 

tinued  to  go  forward,  but  rather  in  a  zigzag  and  involved 
course,  than  according  to  her  former  steady  and  direct  line 
of  motion.  At  length  she  guided  them  through  the  mazes 
of  the  wood  to  a  little  open  glade  of  about  a  quarter  of  an 
acre,  surrounded  by  trees  and  bushes,  which  made  a  wild 
and  irregular  boundary.  Even  in  winter  it  was  a  sheltered 
and  snugly  sequestered  spot;  but  when  arrayed  in  the  ver- 
dure of  spring,  the  earth  sending  forth  all  its  wild  flowers, 
the  shrubs  spreading  their  waste  of  blossom  around  it,  and 
the  weeping  birches,  which  towered  over  the  underwood, 
drooping  their  long  and  leafy  fibres  to  intercept  the  sun,  it 
must  have  seemed  a  place  for  a  youthful  poet  to  study  his 
earliest  sonnet,  or  a  pair  of  lovers  to  exchange  their  first 
mutual  avowal  of  affection.  Apparently  it  now  awakened 
very  different  recollections.  Bertram's  brow,  when  he  had 
looked  round  the  spot,  became  gloomy  and  embarrassed.  Meg, 
after  uttering  to  herself,  'This  is  the  very  spot !'  looked  at 
him  with  a  ghastly  side-glance, — 'D'ye  mind  it?' 

'Yes !'  answered  Bertram,  'imperfectly  I  do.' 

'Aye !'  pursued  his  guide,  'on  this  very  spot  the  man  fell 
from  his  horse — I  was  behind  that  bourtree-bush  at  the  very 
moment.  Sair,  sair  he  strove,  and  sair  he  cried  for  mercy — 
but  he  was  in  the  hands  of  them  that  never  kenn'd  the  word! 
— Now  will  I  show  you  the  further  track — the  last  time  ye 
travelled  it,  was  in  these  arms.' 

She  led  them  accordingly  by  a  long  and  winding  passage 
almost  overgrown  with  brushwood,  until,  without  any  very 
perceptible  descent,  they  suddenly  found  themselves  by  the 
sea-side.  Meg  then  walked  very  fast  on  between  the  surf 
and  the  rocks,  until  she  came  to  a  remarkable  fragment  of 
rock,  detached  from  the  rest.  'Here,'  she  said,  in  a  low  and 
scarcely  audible  whisper,  'here  the  corpse  was  found.' 

'And  the  cave,'  said  Bertram,  in  the  same  tone,  'is  close 
beside  it — are  you  guiding  us  there?' 

'Yes,'  said  the  gipsy,  in  a  decided  tone.  'Bend  up  both 
your  hearts — follow  me  as  I  creep  in — I  have  placed  the  fire- 
wood so  as  to  screen  you.  Bide  behind  it  for  a  gliff  till  I  say, 
The  hour  and  the  man  arc  baith  come!  then  rin  in  on  him, 
take  his  arms,  and  bind  him  till  the  blood  burst  frae  his 
finger-nails.' 


GUY    MANNERING  447 

'I  will,  by  my  soul!'  said  Henry — 'if  he  is  the  man  I  sup- 
pose— Jansen  ?' 

'Aye,  Jansen,  Hatteraick,  and  twenty  mair  names  are  his.' 

'Dinmont,  you  must  stand  by  me  now,'  said  Bertram,  'for 
this  fellow  is  a  devil.' 

'Ye  needna  doubt  that,'  said  the  stout  yeoman — 'But  I  wish 
1  could  mind  a  bit  prayer  or  I  creep  after  the  witch  into  that 
hole  that  she's  opening — It  wad  be  a  sair  thing  to  leave  the 
blessed  sun,  and  the  free  air,  and  gang  and  be  killed,  like 
a  toad  that's  run  to  earth,  in  a  dungeon  like  that.  But,  my 
sooth,  they  will  be  hard-bitten  terriers  will  worry  Dandie; 
so,  as  I  said,  deil  hae  me  if  I  baulk  you.'  This  was  uttered 
in  the  lowest  tone  of  voice  possible.  The  entrance  was  now 
open,  Meg  crept  in  upon  her  hands  and  knees,  Bertram 
followed,  and  Dinmont,  after  giving  a  rueful  glance  toward 
the  daylight,  whose  blessings  he  was  abandoning,  brought  up 
the  rear. 


CHAPTER    LIV 
Die,  prophet,   in  thy  speech  ! 


For  this,  among  the  rest,  was  I  ordained. 

Henry  VI,  Part  HI. 

THE  progress  of  the  Borderer,  who,  as  we  have  said, 
was  the  last  of  the  party,  was  fearfully  arrested  by  a 
hand,  which  caught  hold  of  his  leg  as  he  dragged  his 
long  limbs  after  him  in  silence  and  perturbation  through  the 
low  and  narrow  entrance  of  the  subterranean  passage.  The 
steel  heart  of  the  bold  yeoman  had  wellnigh  given  way,  and 
he  suppressed  with  difficulty  a  shout,  which,  in  the  defence- 
less posture  and  situation  which  they  then  occupied,  might 
have  cost  all  their  lives.  He  contented  himself,  however, 
with  extricating  his  foot  from  the  grasp  of  this  unexpected 
follower.  'Be  still,'  said  a  voice  behind  him,  releasing  him; 
T  am  a  friend — Charles  Hazlewood.' 

These  words  were  uttered  in  a  very  low  voice,  but  they 
produced  sound  enough  to  startle  Meg  Merrilies,  who  led  the 
van,  and  who,  having  already  gained  the  place  where  the 
cavern  expanded,  had  risen  upon  her  feet.  She  began,  as 
if  to  confound  any  listening  ear,  to  growl,  to  mutter,  and  to 
sing  aloud,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make  a  bustle  among 
some  brushwood  which  was  now  heaped  in  the  cave. 

'Here — beldam — deyvil's  kind,'  growled  the  harsh  voice 
of  Dirk  Hatteraick  from  the  inside  of  his  den ;  'what  makest 
thou  there?' 

'Laying  the  roughies'  to  keep  the  cauld  wind  frae  you.  ye 
desperate  do-nae-good — Ye're  e'en  ower  weel  off,  and  wots 
na ; — it  will  be  otherwise  soon.' 

'Have  you  brought  me  the  brandy,  and  any  news  of  my 
people?"  said  Dirk  Hatteraick. 

'There's  the  flask  for  ye.  Your  people — dispersed — broken 
— gone — or  cut  to  ribbands  by  the  red  coats.' 

'Der  Deyvil ! — this  coast  is  fatal  to  me.' 

'  Withered  boughs. 
448 


GUY    MANNERING  449 

'Ye  may  hae  mair  reason  to  say  sae.' 

While  this  dialogue  went  forward,  Bertram  and  Dinmont 
had  both  gained  the  interior  of  the  cave,  and  assumed  an 
erect  position.  The  only  light  which  illuminated  its  rugged 
and  sable  precincts  was  a  quantity  of  wood  burnt  to  charcoal 
in  an  iron  grate,  such  as  they  use  in  spearing  salmon  by 
night.  On  these  red  embers  Hatteraick  from  time  to  time 
threw  a  handful  of  twigs  or  splintered  wood;  but  these,  even 
when  they  blazed  up,  afforded  a  light  much  disproportioned 
to  the  extent  of  the  cavern;  and,  as  its  principal  inhabitant 
lay  upon  the  side  of  the  grate  most  remote  from  the  entrance, 
it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  discover  distinctly  objects  which 
lay  in  that  direction.  The  intruders,  therefore,  whose  num- 
ber was  now  augmented  unexpectedly  to  three,  stood  behind 
the  loosely-piled  branches  with  little  risk  of  discovery.  Din- 
mont had  the  sense  to  keep  back  Hazlewood  with  one  hand 
till  he  whispered  to  Bertram,  'A  friend — young  Hazlewood.' 

It  was  no  time  for  following  up  the  introduction,  and  they 
all  stood  as  still  as  the  rocks  around  them,  obscured  behind 
the  pile  of  brushwood,  which  had  been  probably  placed  there 
to  break  the  cold  wind  from  the  sea,  without  totally  intercept- 
ing the  supply  of  air.  The  branches  were  laid  so  loosely 
above  each  other,  that,  looking  through  them  towards  the 
light  of  the  fire-grate,  they  could  easily  discover  what  passed 
in  its  vicinity,  although  a  much  stronger  degree  of  illumina- 
tion than  it  afforded  would  not  have  enabled  the  persons 
placed  near  the  bottom  of  the  cave  to  have  descried  them  in 
the  position  which  they  occupied. 

The  scene,  independent  of  the  peculiar  moral  interest  and 
personal  danger  which  attended  it,  had,  from  the  effect  of 
the  light  and  shade  on  the  uncommon  objects  which  it  exhib- 
ited, an  appearance  emphatically  dismal.  The  light  in  the 
fire-grate  was  the  dark  red  glare  of  charcoal  in  a  state  of 
ignition,  relieved  from  time  to  time  by  a  transient  flame  of 
a  more  vivid  or  duskier  light,  as  the  fuel  with  which  Dirk 
Hatteraick  fed  his  fire  was  better  or  worse  fitted  for  his 
purpose.  Now  a  dark  cloud  of  stifling  smoke  rose  up  to  the 
roof  of  the  cavern,  and  then  lighted  into  a  reluctant  and 
sullen  blaze,  which  flashed  wavering  up  the  pillar  of  smoke, 
and  was  suddenly  rendered  brighter  and  more  lively  by  some 


^•50  SIR   WALTER    SCOTT 

drier  fuel,  or  perhaps  some  splintered  fir-timber,  which  at 
once  converted  the  smoke  into  flame.  By  such  fitful  irradia- 
tion, they  could  see,  more  or  less  distinctly,  the  form  of  Hat- 
teraick,  whose  savage  and  rugged  cast  of  features,  now  ren- 
dered yet  more  ferocious  by  the  circumstances  of  his  situ- 
ation, and  the  deep  gloom  of  his  mind,  assorted  well  with  the 
rugged  and  broken  vault  which  rose  in  a  rude  arch  over  and 
around  him.  The  form  of  ]\leg  Merrilies,  which  stalked 
about  him,  sometimes  in  the  light,  sometimes  partially  ob- 
scured in  the  smoke  or  darkness,  contrasted  strongly  with 
the  sitting  figure  of  Hatteraick  as  he  bent  over  the  flame,  and 
from  his  stationary  posture  was  constantly  visible  to  the 
spectator,  while  that  of  the  female  flitted  around,  appearing 
or  disappearing  like  a  spectre. 

Bertram  felt  his  blood  boil  at  the  sight  of  Hatteraick  He 
remembered  him  well  under  the  name  of  Jansen.  which  the 
smuggler  had  adopted  after  the  death  of  Kennedy;  and  he 
remembered  also,  that  this  Jansen,  and  his  mate  Brown,  the 
same  who  was  shot  at '  Woodbourne,  had  been  the  brutal 
tyrants  of  his  infancy.  Bertram  knew  further,  from  piecing 
his  own  imperfect  recollections  with  the  narratives  of  Man- 
nering  and  Pleydell,  that  this  man  was  the  prime  agent  in 
the  act  of  violence  which  tore  him  from  his  family  and 
country,  and  had  exposed  him  to  so  many  distresses  and  dan- 
gers. A  thousand  exasperating  reflections  rose  within  his 
bosom ;  and  he  could  hardly  refrain  from  rushing  upon  Hat- 
teraick and  blowing  his  brains  out. 

At  the  same  time  this  would  have  been  no  safe  adventure. 
The  flame,  as  it  rose  and  fell,  while  it  displayed  the  strong, 
muscular,  and  broad-chested  frame  of  the  ruffian,  glanced 
also  upon  two  brace  of  pistols  in  his  belt,  and  upon  the  hilt 
of  his  cutlass :  it  was  not  to  be  doubted  that  his  desperation 
was  commensurate  with  his  personal  strength  and  means  of 
resistance.  Both,  indeed,  were  inadequate  to  encounter  the 
combined  power  of  two  such  men  as  Bertram  himself  and 
his  friend  Dinmont,  without  reckoning  their  unexpected  as- 
sistant Hazlewood,  who  was  unarmed,  and  of  a  slighter 
make;  but  Bertram  felt,  on  a  moment's  reflection,  that  there 
would  be  neither  sense  nor  valour  in  anticipating  the  hang- 
man's office,  and  he  considered  the  importance  of  making 


GUY    MAXXERIXG  451 

Hatteraick  prisoner  alive; — he  therefore  repressed  his  indig- 
nation, and  awaited  what  should  pass  between  the  ruffian  and 
his  gipsy  guide. 

'And  how  are  )'e  now  ?'  said  the  harsh  and  discordant  tones 
of  his  female  attendant :  'Said  I  not  it  would  come  upon  you 
— aye,  and  in  this  very  cave,  where  ye  harboured  after  the 
deed  ?' 

'Wetter  and  sturm,  ye  hag !'  replied  Hatteraick.  'keep  your 
deyvil's  matins  till  thej^'re  wanted. — Have  you  seen  Glossin?' 

"No,'  replied  Meg  Merrilies;  'you've  missed  your  blow,  ye 
blood-spiller !  and  ye  have  nothing  to  expect  from  the 
tempter.' 

'Hagel !'  exclaimed  the  ruffian,  'if  I  had  him  but  by  the 
throat ! — And  what  am  1  to  do  then  ?' 

'Do?'  answered  the  gipsy; — 'die  like  a  man,  or  be  hanged 
like  a  dog!' 

'Hanged,  ye  hag  of  Satan  ! — the  hemp's  not  sown  that 
shall  hang  me.' 

'It's  sown,  and  it's  grown,  and  it's  heckled,  and  it's  twisted. 
Did  I  not  tell  ye,  when  ye  wad  take  aw'ay  the  boy  Harry 
Bertram,  in  spite  of  my  prayers — did  I  not  say  he  would 
come  back  when  he  had  dree'd  his  weird  in  foreign  land  till 
his  twenty-first  year? — did  I  not  say  the  auld  fire  would  burn 
down  to  a  spark,  but  wad  kindle  again?' 

'Well,  mother,  you  did  say  so,'  said  Hatteraick,  in  a  tone 
that  had  something  of  despair  in  its  accents ;  'and  donner  and 
blitzen !  I  believe  you  spoke  the  truth — that  younker  of 
Ellangowan  has  been  a  rock  ahead  to  me  all  my  life ! — and 
now,  with  Glossin's  cursed  contrivance,  my  crew  have  been 
cut  off,  my  boats  destroyed,  and  I  dare  say  the  lugger's 
taken — there  were  not  men  enough  left  on  board  to  work 
her,  far  less  to  fight  her — a  dredge-boat  might  have  taken 
her.  And  what  will  the  owners  say  ? — Hagel  and  sturm ! 
I  shall  never  dare  go  back  again  to  Flushing.' 

'You'll  never  need,'  said  the  gipsy. 

'What  are  you  doing  there?'  said  her  companion;  'and 
what  makes  you  say  that  ?' 

During  this  dialogue  Meg  was  heaping  some  flax  loosely 
together.  Before  answer  to  this  question,  she  dropped  a 
firebrand  upon  the  f^ax,  which  had  been  previously  steeped 


450  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

in  some  spirituous  liquor,  for  it  instantly  caught  fire,  and 
rose  in  a  vivid  pyramid  of  the  most  brilliant  light  up  to  the 
very  top  of  the  vault.  As  it  ascended,  Meg  answered  the 
ruffian's  question  in  a  firm  and  steady  voice: — 'Because  the 
Hour's  come,  and  the  Man.' 

At  the  appointed  signal,  Bertram  and  Dinmont  sprung  over 
the  brushwood,  and  rushed  upon  Hatteraick.  Hazlewood, 
unacquainted  with  their  plan  of  assault,  was  a  moment  later. 
The  ruffian,  who  instantly  saw  he  was  betrayed,  turned  his 
first  vengeance  on  Meg  Merrilies,  at  whom  he  discharged  a 
pistol.  She  fell,  with  a  piercing  and  dreadful  cry,  between 
the  shriek  of  pain  and  the  sound  of  laughter,  when  at  its 
highest  and  most  suffocating  height.  'I  kenn'd  it  would  be 
this  way,'  she  said. 

Bertram,  in  his  haste,  slipped  his  foot  upon  the  uneven 
rock  which  floored  the  cave ; — a  fortunate  stumble,  for  Hat- 
teraick's  second  bullet  whistled  over  him  with  so  true  and 
steady  an  aim,  that  had  he  been  standing  upright,  it  must 
have  lodged  in  his  brain.  Ere  the  smuggler  could  draw  an- 
other pistol,  Dinmont  closed  with  him,  and  endeavoured  by 
main  force  to  pinion  down  his  arms.  Such,  however,  was 
the  wretch's  personal  strength,  joined  to  the  efforts  of  his 
despair,  that,  in  spite  of  the  gigantic  force  with  which  the 
Borderer  grappled  him,  he  dragged  Dinmont  through  the 
blazing  flax,  and  had  almost  succeeded  in  drawing  a  third 
pistol,  which  might  have  proved  fatal  to  the  honest  farmer, 
had  not  Bertram,  as  well  as  Hazlewood,  come  to  his  assist- 
ance, when,  by  main  force,  and  no  ordinary  exertion  of  it, 
they  threw  Hatteraick  on  the  ground,  disarmed  him,  and 
bound  him.  This  scuffle,  though  it  takes  up  some  time  in  the 
narrative,  passed  in  less  than  a  single  minute.  When  he  was 
fairly  mastered,  after  one  or  two  desperate  and  almost  con- 
vulsionary  struggles,  the  ruffian  lay  perfectly  still  and  silent. 
'He's  gaun  to  die  game,  ony  how,'  said  Dinmont :  'weel,  I  like 
him  na  the  waur  for  that.' 

This  observation  honest  Dandie  made  while  he  was  shak- 
ing the  blazing  flax  from  his  rough  coat  and  shaggy  black 
hair,  some  of  which  had  been  singed  in  the  scuffle.  'He  is 
quiet  now,'  said  Bertram; — 'stay  by  him,  and  do  not  permit 
him  to  stir  till  I  see  whether  the  poor  woman  be  alive  or 


GUY    MANNERIXG  453 

dead.'  With  Hazlewood's  assistance  he  raised  Meg  Mer- 
rilies. 

'I  kenn'd  it  Vv'ould  be  this  way,'  she  muttered,  'and  it's 
e'en  this  way  that  it  should  be.' 

The  ball  had  penetrated  the  breast  below  the  throat.  It 
did  not  bleed  much  externally ;  but  Bertram,  accustomed  to 
see  gun-shot  wounds,  thought  it  the  more  alarming.  'Good 
God !  what  shall  we  do  for  this  poor  woman  ?'  said  he  to 
Hazlewood, — the  circumstances  superseding  the  necessity  of 
previous  explanation  or  introduction  to  each  other. 

'My  horse  stands  tied  above  in  the  wood,'  said  Hazlewood 
— 'I  have  been  watching  you  these  two  hours — I  will  ride 
off  for  some  assistance  that  may  be  trusted.  Meanwhile,  you 
had  better  defend  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  against  every  one 
until  I  return.'  He  hastened  away.  Bertram,  after  binding 
Meg  Merrilies's  wound  as  well  as  he  could,  took  station  near 
the  mouth  of  the  cave  with  a  cocked  pistol  in  his  hand;  Din- 
mont  continued  to  watch  Hatteraick,  keeping  a  grasp,  like 
that  of  Hercules,  on  his  breast.  There  was  a  dead  silence  in 
the  cavern,  only  interrupted  by  the  low  and  suppressed  moan- 
ing of  the  wounded  female,  and  by  the  hard  breathing  of  the 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER   LV 

For  though  seduced  and  led  astray 

Thou'st  travelled  far  and  wandered  long, 

Thy  God  hath  seen  thee  all  the  way, 
And  all  the  turns  that  led  thee  wrong. 

The  Hall  of  Justice. 

AFTER  the  space  of  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour, 

A\     which  the  uncertainty  and  danger  of  their  situation 

-^-*-  made  seem  almost  thrice  as  long,  the  voice  of  young 

Hazlewood  was  heard  without.     "Here  I  am,'  he  cried,  'with 

a  sufficient  party.' 

'Come  in  then,'  answered  Bertram,  not  a  little  pleased 
to  find  his  guard  relieved.  Hazlewood  then  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  two  or  three  countrymen,  one  of  whom  acted  as 
a  peace-officer.  They  lifted  Hatteraick  up,  and  carried 
him  in  their  arms  as  far  as  the  entrance  of  the  vault  was 
high  enough  to  permit  them;  then  laid  him  on  his  back, 
and  dragged  him  along  as  w'ell  as  they  could,  for  no  per- 
suasion would  induce  him  to  assist  the  transportation  by 
any  exertion  of  his  own.  He  lay  as  silent  and  inactive 
in  their  hands  as  a  dead  corpse,  incapable  of  opposing, 
but  in  no  way  aiding,  their  operations.  When  he  was 
dragged  into  daylight,  and  placed  erect  upon  his  feet 
among  three  or  four  assistants,  who  had  remained  without 
the  cave,  he  seemed  stupefied  and  dazzled  by  the  sudden 
change  from  the  darkness  of  his  cavern.  While  others  were 
superintending  the  removal  of  Meg  Merrilies,  those  who 
remained  with  Hatteraick  attempted  to  make  him  sit  down 
upon  a  fragment  of  rock  which  lay  close  upon  the  high- 
water  mark.  A  strong  shuddering  convulsed  his  iron  frame 
for  an  instant,  as  he  resisted  their  purpose.  'Not  there — 
Hagel ! — you  would  not  make  me  sit  there?' 

These  were  the  only  words  he  spoke;  but  their  import, 
and  the  deep  tone  of  horror  in  which  they  were  uttered, 
served  to  show  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

454 


GUY    MANNERIXG  455 

When.  Meg  Merrilies  had  also  been  removed  from  the 
cavern,  with  all  the  care  for  her  safety  that  circumstances 
admitted,  they  consulted  where  she  should  be  carried. 
Hazlewood  had  sent  for  a  surgeon,  and  proposed  that  she 
should  be  lifted  in  the  meantime  to  the  nearest  cottage. 
But  the  patient  exclaimed,  with  great  earnestness,  'Na,  na, 
na  ! — to  the  Kairri  o'  Derncleugh — the  Kaim  o'  Derncleugh  ; — 
the  spirit  will  not  free  itself  o'  the  flesh  but  there.' 

'You  must  indulge  her,  I  believe,'  said  Bertram; — 'her 
troubled  imagination  will  otherwise  aggravate  the  fever  of 
the  wound.' 

They  bore  her  accordingly  to  the  vault.  On  the  way  her 
mind  seemed  to  run  more  upon  the  scene  which  had  just 
passed,  than  on  her  own  approaching  death.  'There  were 
three  of  them  set  upon  him;  I  brought  the  twasome — but 
wha  was  the  third? — It  would  be  himsell,  returned  to  work 
his  ain  vengeance  !' 

It  was  evident  that  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Hazle- 
wood, whose  person  the  outrage  of  Hatteraick  left  her  no 
time  to  recognize,  had  produced  a  strong  effect  on  her 
imagination.  She  often  recurred  to  it.  Hazlewood  ac- 
counted for  his  unexpected  arrival  to  Bertram,  by  saying 
that  he  had  kept  them  in  view  for  some  time  by  the  direction 
of  Mannering;  that,  observing  them  disappear  into  the  cave, 
he  had  crept  after  them,  meaning  to  announce  himself 
and  his  errand,  when  his  hand  in  the  darkness  encountering 
the  leg  of  Dinmont,  had  nearly  produced  a  catastrophe, 
which,  indeed,  nothing  but  the  presence  of  mind  and  forti- 
tude of  the  bold  yeoman  could  have  averted. 

When  the  gipsy  arrived  at  the  hut,  she  produced  the 
key;  and  when  they  entered,  and  were  about  to  deposit  her 
upon  the  bed,  she  said,  in  an  anxious  tone.  'Na.  na !  not 
that  way — the  feet  to  the  east ;'  and  appeared  gratified 
when  they  reversed  her  posture  accordingly,  and  placed 
her  in  that  appropriate  to  a  dead  body. 

'Is  there  no  clergyman  near,'  said  Bertram,  'to  assist  this 
unhappy  woman's  devotions?' 

A  gentleman,  the  minister  of  the  parish,  who  had  been 
Charles  Hazlewood's  tutor,  had,  with  many  others,  caught 
the  alarm,  that  the   murderer  of   Kennedy    was   taken  on 


456  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

the  spot  where  the  deed  had  been  done  so  many  years 
before,  and  that  a  woman  was  mortally  wounded.  From 
curiosity,  or  rather  from  the  feeling  that  his  duty  called 
him  to  scenes  of  distress,  this  gentleman  had  come  to  the 
Kaim  of  Derncleugh,  and  now  presented  himself.  The 
surgeon  arrived  at  the  same  time,  and  was  about  to  probe 
the  wound ;  but  Meg  resisted  the  assistance  of  either. 
'It's  no  what  man  can  do,  that  will  heal  my  body,  or  save 
my  spirit.  Let  me  speak  what  I  have  to  say,  and  then  ye 
may  work  your  will — Fse  be  nae  hindrance.  But  where's 
Henry  Bertram?' — The  assistants,  to  whom  this  name 
had  been  long  a  stranger,  gazed  upon  each  other, — 'Yes !' 
she  said,  in  a  stronger  and  harsher  tone,  'I  said  Henry 
Bertram  of  Ellangozvan.  Stand  from  the  light  and  let  me 
see   him.' 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  Bertram,  who  approached 
the  wretched  couch.  The  wounded  woman  took  hold  of 
his  hand.  'Look  at  him,'  she  said,  'all  that  ever  saw  his 
father  or  his  grandfather ;  and  bear  witness  if  he  is  not 
their  living  image?'  A  murmur  went  through  the  crowd — 
the  resemblance  was  too  striking  to  be  denied.  'And  now 
hear  me — and  let  that  man,'  pointing  to  Hatteraick,  who  was 
seated  with  his  keepers  on  a  sea-chest  at  some  distance — 'let 
him  deny  what  I  say,  if  he  can.  That  is  Henry  Bertram, 
son  to  Godfrey  Bertram,  umquhile  of  Ellangowan ;  that 
young  man  is  the  very  lad-bairn  that  Dirk  Hatteraick  car- 
ried off  from  Warroch  Wood  the  day  that  he  murdered  the 
ganger.  I  was  there  like  a  wandering  spirit — for  I  longed 
to  see  that  wood  or  we  left  the  country.  I  saved  the  bairn's 
life,  and  sair,  sair  I  prigged  and  prayed  they  would  leave 
him  wi'  me — But  they  bore  him  away,  and  he  been  lang  ower 
the  sea,  and  now  he's  come  for  his  ain,  and  what  should 
withstand  him?  I  swore  to  keep  the  secret  till  he  was  ane- 
an'-twenty — I  kenn'd  he  behoved  to  dree  his  weird  till  that 
day  cam — I  keepit  that  oath  which  I  took  to  them — but 
I  made  another  vow  to  mysell,  and  if  I  lived  to  see  the 
day  of  his  return,  I  would  set  him  in  his  father's  seat,  if 
every  step  was  on  a  dead  man.  I  have  keepit  that  oath 
too; — I  will  be  ae  step  mysell — he'  (pointing  to  Hatteraick) 
'will  soon  be  another,  and  there  will  be  ane  mair  yet.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  457 

The  clergyman  now  interposing,  remarked  it  was  a  pity 
this  deposition  was  not  regularly  taken  and  written  down, 
and  the  surgeon  urged  the  necessity  of  examining  the 
wound,  previously  to  exhausting  her  by  questions.  When 
she  saw  them  removing  Hatteraick,  in  order  to  clear  the 
room  and  leave  the  surgeon  to  his  operations,  she  called 
out  aloud,  raising  herself  at  the  same  time  upon  the  couch. 
'Dirk  Hatteraick.  you  and  I  will  never  meet  again  until 
we  are  before  the  judgement-seat — Will  ye  own  to  what 
I  have  said,  or  will  you  dare  deny  it?' — He  turned  his 
hardened  brow  upon  her,  with  a  look  of  dumb  and  inflexible 
defiance.  'Dirk  Hatteraick,  dare  ye  deny,  with  my  blood 
upon  your  hands,  one  word  of  what  my  dying  breath  is 
uttering?'  He  looked  at  her  with  the  same  expression 
of  hardihood  and  dogged  stubbornness,  and  moved  his  lips, 
but  uttered  no  sound.  'Then  fareweel !'  she  said,  'and  God 
forgive  you ! — your  hand  has  sealed  my  evidence.  When 
I  was  in  life,  I  was  the  mad  randy  gipsy,  that  had  been 
scourged,  and  banished,  and  branded — that  had  begged  from 
door  to  door,  and  been  hounded  like  a  stray  tike  from 
parish  to  parish — wha  would  hae  minded  her  tale?  But 
now  I  am  a  dying  woman,  and  my  words  will  not  fall  to 
the  ground,  any  more  than  the  earth  will  cover  my  blood !' 

She  here  paused,  and  all  left  the  hut  except  the  surgeon 
and  two  or  three  women.  After  a  very  short  examination, 
he  shook  his  head,  and  resigned  his  post  by  the  dying 
woman's  side  to  the  clergyman. 

A  chaise  returning  empty  to  Kippletringan  had  been 
stopped  on  the  high-road  by  a  constable,  who  foresaw  it 
would  be  necessary  to  convey  Hatteraick  to  jail.  The 
driver,  understanding  what  was  going  on  at  Derncleugh. 
left  his  horses  to  the  care  of  a  blackguard  boy.  confiding, 
it  is  to  be  supposed,  rather  in  the  years  and  discretion  of  the 
cattle,  than  in  those  of  their  keeper,  and  set  off  full  speed. 
to  see,  as  he  expressed  himself,  'whaten  a  sort  o'  fun  was 
gaun  on.'  He  arrived  just  as  the  group  of  tenants  and 
peasants,  whose  numbers  increased  every  moment,  satiated 
with  gazing  upon  the  rugged  features  of  Hatteraick.  had 
turned  their  attention  towards  Bertram.  Almost  all  of 
them,   especially  the   aged  men  who  had   seen   Ellangowan 


458  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

in  his  better  days,  felt  and  acknowledged  the  justice  of 
Meg  Merrilies's  appeal.  But  the  Scotch  are  a  cautious 
people; — they  remembered  there  was  another  in  possession 
of  the  estate,  and  they  as  yet  only  expressed  their  feelings 
in  low  whispers  to  each  other.  Our  friend  Jock  Jabos,  the 
postilion,  forced  his  way  into  the  middle  of  the  circle; 
but  no  sooner  cast  his  eyes  upon  Bertram,  that  he  started 
back  in  amazement,  with  a  solemn  exclamation,  'As  sure 
as  there's  breath  in  man,  it's  auld  Ellangowan  arisen  from 
the  dead !' 

This  public  declaration  of  an  unprejudiced  witness  was 
just  the  spark  wanted  to  give  fire  to  the  popular  feeling, 
which  burst  forth  in  three  distinct  shouts: — 'Bertram  for 
ever !' — 'Long  life  to  the  heir  of  Ellangowan !' — 'God  send 
him  his  ain,  and  to  live  among  us  as  his  forbears  did  of 
yore !' 

'I  hae  been  seventy  years  on  the  land,'  said  one  person. 

'I  and  mine  hae  been  seventy  and  seventy  to  that,'  said 
another;  'I  have  a  right  to  ken  the  glance  of  a  Bertram.' 

'I  and  mine  hae  been  three  hundred  years  here,'  said 
another  old  man,  'and  I  sail  sell  my  last  cow,  but  I'll  see 
the  young  laird  placed  in  his  right.' 

The  women,  ever  delighted  with  the  marvellous,  and 
not  less  so  when  a  handsome  young  man  is  the  subject 
of  the  tale,  added  their  shrill  acclamations  to  the  general 
all-hail. — 'Blessings  on  him — he's  the  very  picture  o'  his 
father ! — the  Bertrams  were  ay  the  wale  o'  the  country- 
side !" 

'Eh  !  that  his  puir  mother,  that  died  in  grief  and  in  doubt 
about  him,  but  had  lived  to  see  this  day !'  exclaimed  some 
female  voices. 

'But  we'll  help  him  to  his  ain,  kimmers,'  cried  others: 
'and  before  Glossin  sail  keep  the  Place  of  Ellangowan, 
we'll  howk  him  out  o't  wi'  our  nails !' 

Others  crowded  around  Dinmont,  who  was  nothing  loath 
to  tell  what  he  knew  of  his  friend,  and  to  boast  the  honour 
which  he  had  in  contributing  to  the  discovery.  As  he  was 
known  to  several  of  the  principal  farmers  present,  his  tes- 
timony afforded  an  additional  motive  to  the  general  en- 
thusiasm.    In  short,  it  w^as  one  of  those  moments  of  intense 


GUY    MANXERING  459 

feeling,  when  the  frost  of  the  Scottish  people  melts  like  a 
snow-wreath,  and  the  dissolving  torrent  carries  dam  and 
dyke  before  it. 

The  sudden  shouts  interrupted  the  devotions  of  the  clergy- 
man;  and  Meg,  who  was  in  one  of  those  dozing  fits  of 
stupefaction  that  precede  the  close  of  existence,  suddenly 
started — "Dinna  ye  hear? — dinna  ye  hear? — he's  owned! — 
he's  owned ! — I  lived  but  for  this. — I  am  a  sinfu'  woman ; 
but  if  my  curse  brought  it  down,  my  blessing  has  taen  it 
off !  And  now  I  wad  hae  liked  to  hae  said  mair.  But  it 
canna  be.  Stay' — she  continued,  stretching  her  head 
towards  the  gleam  of  light  that  shot  through  the  narrow 
slit  which  served  for  a  window — 'Is  he  not  there? — stand 
out  o'  the  light,  and  let  me  look  upon  him  ance  mair.  But 
the  darkness  is  in  my  ain  een,'  she  said,  sinking  back,  after 
an  earnest  gaze  upon  vacuity — it's  a'  ended  now, 

Pass  breath, 
Come  death  !' 

And,  sinking  back  upon  her  couch  of  straw,  she  expired 
without  a  groan.  The  clergyman  and  the  surgeon  carefully 
noted  down  all  that  she  had  said,  now  deeply  regretting 
they  had  not  examined  her  more  minutely,  but  both  re- 
maining morally  convinced  of  the  truth  of  her  disclosure. 

Hazlewood  was  the  first  to  compliment  Bertram  upon 
the  near  prospect  of  his  being  restored  to  his  name  and 
rank  in  society.  The  people  around,  who  now  learned 
from  Jabos  that  Bertram  was  the  person  who  had  wounded 
him,  were  struck  with  his  generosity,  and  added  his  name 
to  Bertram's  in  their  exulting  exclamations. 

Some,  however,  demanded  of  the  postilion  how  he  had 
not  recognized  Bertram  when  he  saw  him  some  time  before 
at  Kippletringan  ? — to  which  he  gave  the  very  natural 
answer — 'Hout,  what  was  I  thinking  about  Ellangowan 
then? — It  was  the  cry  that  was  rising  e-en  now  that  the 
young  laird  was  found,  that  put  me  on  finding  out  the 
likeness. — There  was  nae  missing  it  ance  ane  was  set  to 
look  for't.' 

The  obduracy  of  Hatteraick,  during  the  latter  part  of 
this    scene,    was    in    some    slight    degree    shaken.      He    was 

D— 16 


460  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

observed  to  twinkle  with  his  eyeHds — to  attempt  to  raise 
his  bound  hands  for  the  purpose  of  pulling  his  hat  over 
his  brow — to  look  angrily  and  impatiently  to  the  road,  as 
if  anxious  for  the  vehicle  which  was  to  remove  him  from 
the  spot. — At  length  Mr.  Hazlewood,  apprehensive  that  the 
popular  ferment  might  take  a  direction  towards  the  prisoner, 
directed  he  should  be  taken  to  the  post-chaise,  and  so  re- 
moved to  the  town  of  Kippletringan,  to  be  at  Mr.  Mac- 
Morlan's  disposal ;  at  the  same  time  he  sent  an  express 
to  warn  that  gentleman  of  what  had  happened. — 'And  now/ 
he  said  to  Bertram,  'I  should  be  happy  if  you  would  accom- 
pany me  to  Hazlewood  House ;  but  as  that  might  not  be 
so  agreeable  just  now  as  I  trust  it  will  be  in  a  day  or  two, 
you  must  allow  me  to  return  with  you  to  Woodbourne. 
But  you  are  on  foot.' — 'Oh,  if  the  young  laird  would  take 
my  horse !' — 'Or  mine' — 'Or  mine,'  said  half  a  dozen  voices 
— 'Or  mine ;  he  can  trot  ten  mile  an  hour  without  whip  or 
spur,  and  he's  the  young  laird's  frae  this  moment,  if  he  likes 
to  take  him  for  a  herezeld,'  as  they  ca'd  it  lang  syne.' — 
Bertram  readily  accepted  the  horse  as  a  loan,  and  poured 
forth  his  thanks  to  the  assembled  crowd  for  their  good 
wishes,  which  they  repaid  with  shouts  and  vows  of  attach- 
ment. 

While  the  happy  owner  was  directing  one  lad  to  'gae 
down  for  the  new  saddle ;'  another,  'just  to  rin  the  beast 
ower  wi'  a  dry  wisp  o'  strae;'  a  third,  'to  hie  down  and 
borrow  Dan  Dunkieson's  plated  stirrups,'  and  expressing 
his  regret  'that  there  was  nae  time  to  gie  the  nag  a  feed, 
that  the  young  laird  might  ken  his  mettle.' — Bertram  taking 
the  clergyman  by  the  arm,  walked  into  the  vault,  and 
shut  the  door  immediately  after  them.  He  gazed  in  silence 
for  some  minutes  upon  the  body  of  Meg  Merrilies,  as  it 
lay  before  him,  with  the  features  sharpened  by  death,  yet 
still  retaining  the  stern  and  energetic  character  which  had 
maintained   in  life  her  superiority  as  the  wild  chieftainess 

^  This  hard  word  is  placed  in  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  aged  tenants. 
In  the  old  feudal  tenures,  the  herezeld  constituted  the  best  horse  or  other 
animal  on  the  vassals'  lands,  become  the  right  of  the  superior.  The  only 
remnant  of  this  custom  is  what  is  called  the  sasine,  or  a  fee  of  certain 
estimated  value,  paid  to  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  who  gives  possession  to 
the  vassals  of  the  crown. 


GUY    MANNERING  461 

of  the  lawless  people  amongst  whom  she  was  born.  The 
young  soldier  dried  the  tears  which  involuntarily  rose  on 
viewing  this  wreck  of  one,  who  might  be  said  to  have  died 
a  victim  to  her  fidelity  to  his  person  and  family.  He  then 
took  the  clergyman's  hand,  and  asked  solemnly,  if  she 
appeared  able  to  give  that  attention  to  his  devotions  which 
befitted  a  departing  person. 

'My  dear  sir,'  said  the  good  minister,  'I  trust  this  poor 
woman  had  remaining  sense  to  feel  and  join  in  the  import 
of  my  prayers.  But  let  us  humbly  hope  we  are  judged  of  by 
our  opportunities  of  religious  and  moral  instruction.  In 
some  degrees  she  might  be  considered  as  an  uninstructed 
heathen,  even  in  the  bosom  of  a  Christian  country ; — and 
let  us  remember,  that  the  errors  and  vices  of  an  ignorant 
life  were  balanced  by  instances  of  disinterested  attach- 
ment amounting  almost  to  heroism.  To  Him.  who  can 
alone  weigh  our  crimes  and  errors  against  our  efforts 
towards  virtue,  we  consign  her  with  awe,  but  not  without 
hope.' 

'May  I  request,'  said  Bertram,  'that  you  will  see  every 
decent  solemnity  attended  to  in  behalf  of  this  poor  woman? 
I  have  some  property  belonging  to  her  in  my  hands — 
at  all  events,  I  will  be  answerable  for  the  expense — You 
will  hear  of  me  at  Woodbourne.' 

Dinmont,  who  had  been  furnished  with  a  horse  by  one 
of  his  acquaintance,  now  loudly  called  out  that  all  was 
ready  for  their  return ;  and  Bertram  and  Hazlewood, 
after  a  strict  exhortation  to  the  crowd,  which  was  now 
increased  to  several  hundreds,  to  preserve  good  order  in 
their  rejoicing,  as  the  least  ungoverncd  zeal  might  be 
turned  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  young  Laird,  as  they 
termed  him,  took  their  leave  amid  the  shouts  of  the  mul- 
titude. 

As  they  rode  past  the  ruined  cottages  at  Derncleugh, 
Dinmont  said,  'I'm  sure  when  ye  come  to  your  ain.  Captain, 
ye'll  no  forget  to  bigg  a  bit  cot-house  there?  Deil  be  in 
me  but  I  wad  do't  mysell,  an  it  werena  in  better  hands.  I 
wadna  like  to  live  in't  though,  after  what  she  said.  Od,  I 
wad  put  in  auld  Elspeth.  the  bedral's  widow — the  like  o' 
them's  used  wi'  graves  and  ghaists,  and  thae  things.' 


462  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

A  short  but  brisk  ride  brought  them  to  Woodbourne.  The 
news  of  their  exploit  had  already  flown  far  and  wide,  and 
the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  vicinity  met  them  on  the  lawn 
with  shouts  of  congratulation.  'That  you  have  seen  me 
alive/  said  Bertram  to  Lucy,  who  first  ran  up  to  him,  though 
Julia's  eyes  even  anticipated  hers,  'you  must  thank  these 
kind  friends.' 

With  a  blush  expressing  at  once  pleasure,  gratitude,  and 
bashfulness,  Lucy  curtsied  to  Hazlewood,  but  to  Dinmont 
she  frankly  extended  her  hand.  The  honest  farmer,  in 
the  extravagance  of  his  joy,  carried  his  freedom  further 
than  the  hint  warranted,  for  he  imprinted  his  thanks  on  the 
lady's  lips,  and  was  instantly  shocked  at  the  rudeness  of 
his  own  conduct.  'Lord  sake,  madam,  I  ask  your  pardon.' 
he  said;  'I  forgot  but  ye  had  been  a  bairn  o'  my  ain — the 
Captain's  sae  hamely,  he  gars  ane  forget  himsell.' 

Old  Pleydell  now  advanced:  'Nay,  if  fees  like  these  are 
going,'  he  said 

'Stop,  stop,  Mr.  Pleydell,'  said  Julia,  'you  had  your  fees 
beforehand — remember  last  night.' 

'Why,  I  do  confess  a  retainer,'  said  the  barrister;  'but 
if  I  don't  deserve  double  fees  from  both  Miss  Bertram 
and  you  when  I  conclude  my  examination  of  Dirk  Hat- 
teraick  to-morrow — Gad,  I  will  so  supple  him! — You  shall 
see.  Colonel,  and  you,  my  saucy  Misses,  though  you  may 
not  see,  shall  hear.' 

'Aye,  that's  if  we  choose  to  listen,  counsellor,'  replied 
Julia. 

"And  you  think,'  said  Pleydell,  'it's  two  to  one  you  won't 
choose  that?  But  you  have  curiosity  that  teaches  you  the 
use  of  your  ears  now  and  then.' 

'I  declare,  counsellor,'  answered  the  lively  damsel,  'that 
such  saucy  bachelors  as  you  would  teach  us  the  use  of  our 
fingers  now  and  then.' 

'Reserve  them  for  the  harpsichord,  my  love,'  said  the 
counsellor — 'Better  for  all  parties.' 

While  this  idle  chat  ran  on,  Colonel  Mannering  introduced 
to  Bertram  a  plain  good-looking  man,  in  a  grey  coat  and 
waistcoat,  buckskin  breeches,  and  boots.  'This,  my  dear  sir, 
is  Mr.  Mac-Morlan.' 


GUY    MANNERIXG  463 

'To  whom,'  said  Bertram,  embracing  him  cordially,  'my 
sister  was  indebted  for  a  home,  when  deserted  by  all  her 
natural  friends  and  relations.' 

The  Dominie  then  pressed  forward,  grinned,  chuckled, 
made  a  diabolical  sound  in  attempting  to  whistle,  and  finally, 
unable  to  stifle  his  emotions,  ran  away  to  empty  the  feelings 
of  his  heart  at  his  eyes. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  expansion  of  heart 
and  glee  of  this  happy  evening. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

—  How  like  a  hateful  ape, 


Detected  grinning  'midst  his  pilfered  hoard, 
A  cunning  man  appears,  whose  secret  frauds 
Are  opened  to  the  day ! 

Count  Basil. 

THERE  was  a  great  movement  at  Woodbourne  early 
on  the  following  morning,  to  attend  the  examination 
at  Kippletringan.  Mr.  Pleydell,  from  the  investiga- 
tion Vv'hich  he  had  formerly  bestowed  on  the  dark  affair  of 
Kennedy's  death,  as  well  as  from  the  general  deference  due 
to  his  professional  abilities,  was  requested  by  Mr.  Mac- 
Mbrlan  and  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,  and  another  justice  of 
peace  who  attended,  to  take  the  situation  of  chairman,  and 
the  lead  in  the  examination.  Colonel  Mannering  was  invited 
to  sit  down  with  them.  The  examination,  being  previous 
to  trial,  was  private  in  other  respects. 

The  counsellor  resumed  and  re-interrogated  former  evi- 
dence. He  then  examined  the  clergyman  and  the  surgeon 
respecting  the  dying  declaration  of  Meg  Merrilies.  They 
stated,  that  she  distinctly,  positively,  and  repeatedly,  de- 
clared herself  an  eye-witness  of  Kennedy's  death  by  the 
hands  of  Hatteraick  and  two  or  three  of  his  crew;  that  her 
presence  was  accidental ;  that  she  believed  their  resentment 
at  meeting  him,  when  they  were  in  the  act  of  losing  their 
vessel  through  the  means  of  his  information,  led  to  the 
commission  of  the  crime;  that  she  said  there  was  one  wit- 
ness of  the  murder,  but  who  refused  to  participate  in  it, 
still  alive, — her  nephew,  Gabriel  Faa ;  and  she  had  hinted 
at  another  person  who  was  an  accessory  after,  not  before, 
the  fact ;  but  her  strength  there  failed  her.  They  did  not 
forget  to  mention  her  declaration  that  she  had  saved  the 
child,  and  that  he  was  torn  from  her  by  the  smugglers,  for 
the  purpose  of  carrying  him  to  Holland. — All  these  particu- 
lars were  carefully  reduced  to  writing. 

464 


GUY    MANNERIXG  465 

Dirk  Hatteraick  was  then  brought  in,  heavily  ironed :  for 
he  had  been  strictly  secured  and  guarded,  owing  to  his 
former  escape.  He  was  asked  his  name  ;  he  made  no  answer : 
— His  profession ;  he  was  silent : — Several  other  questions 
were  put ;  to  none  of  which  he  returned  any  reply.  Pleydell 
wiped  the  glasses  of  his  spectacles,  and  considered  the 
prisoner  very  attentively.  'A  very  truculent-looking  fellow,' 
he  whispered  to  Mannering;  'but,  as  Dogberry  says,  I'll  go 
cunningly  to  work  with  him. — Here,  call  in  Soles — Soles  the 
shoemaker. — Soles,  do  you  remember  measuring  some  foot- 
steps imprinted  on  the  mud  at  the  wood  of  Warroch,  on 

November  17 — ,  by  my  orders?'  Soles  remembered  the  cir- 
cumstance perfectly  — 'Look  at  that  paper — is  that  your  note 
of  the  measurement?'  Soles  verified  the  memorandum. — 
'Now,  there  stands  a  pair  of  shoes  on  that  table ;  measure 
them,  and  see  if  they  correspond  with  any  of  the  marks 
you  have  noted  there.'  The  shoemaker  obeyed,  and  declared, 
'that  they  answered  exactly  to  the  largest  of  the  footprints.' 

'We  shall  prove,'  said  the  counsellor,  aside  to  Mannering, 
'that  these  shoes,  which  were  found  in  the  ruins  at  Dern- 
cleugh,  belonged  to  Brown,  the  fellow  whom  you  shot  on 
the  lawn  at  Woodbourne. — Now,  Soles,  measure  that  prison- 
er's feet  very  accurately.' 

Mannering  observed  Hatteraick  strictly,  and  could  notice 
a  visible  tremor.  'Do  these  measurements  correspond  with 
any  of  the  footprints?' 

The  man  looked  at  the  note,  then  at  his  foot-rule  and 
measure — then  verified  his  former  measurement  by  a  second. 
'They  correspond,'  he  said,  'within  a  hair-breadth,  to  a 
footmark  broader  and  shorter  than  the  former.' 

Hatteraick's  genius  here  desterted  him — 'Der  deyvil!'  he 
broke  out,  'how  could  there  be  a  footmark  on  the  ground, 
when  it  was  a  frost  as  hard  as  the  heart  of  a  Memel  log?' 

'In  the  evening,  I  grant  you,  Captain  Hatteraick,'  said 
Pleydell,  'but  not  in  the  forenoon — Will  you  favour  me 
with  information  where  you  were  upon  the  day  you  re- 
member so  exactly?' 

Hatteraick  saw  his  blunder,  and  again  screwed  up  his 
hard  features  for  obstinate  silence. — 'Put  down  his  observa- 
tion, however,'  said  Pleydell  to  the  clerk. 


466  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and,  much  to  the  sur- 
prise of  most  present,  Mr.  Gilbert  Glossin  made  his  appear- 
ance. That  worthy  gentleman  had,  by  dint  of  watching  and 
eavesdropping,  ascertained  that  he  was  not  mentioned  by 
name  in  Meg  Merrilies's  dying  declaration — a  circumstance 
certainly  not  owing  to  any  favourable  disposition  towards 
him,  but  to  the  delay  of  taking  her  regular  examination,  and 
to  the  rapid  approach  of  death.  He  therefore  supposed 
himself  safe  from  all  evidence  but  such  as  might  arise  from 
Hatteraick's  confession ;  to  prevent  which,  he  resolved  to 
push  a  bold  face,  and  join  his  brethren  of  the  bench  during 
his  examination. — 'I  shall  be  able,'  he  thought,  'to  make  the 
rascal  sensible  his  safety  lies  in  keeping  his  own  counsel  and 
mine ;  and  my  presence,  besides,  will  be  a  proof  of  confidence 
and  innocence.  If  I  must  lose  the  estate,  I  must — but  I 
trust  better  things.' 

He  entered  with  a  profound  salutation  to  Sir  Robert 
Hazlewood.  Sir  Robert,  who  had  rather  begun  to  suspect 
that  his  plebeian  neighbour  had  made  a  cat's-paw  of  him, 
inclined  his  head  stiffly,  took  snuff,  and  looked  another 
way. 

'Mr.  Corsand,'  said  Glossin  to  the  other  yoke-fellow  of 
justice,  'your  most  humble  servant.' 

'Your  humble  servant,  Mr.  Glossin,'  answered  Mr.  Cor- 
sand, dryly,  composing  his  countenance  regis  ad  exeinplar, 
— that  is  to  say,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Baronet. 

'Mac-Morlan,  my  worthy  friend,'  continued  Glossin,  'how 
d'ye  do — always  on  your  duty?' 

'Umph,'  said  honest  Mac-Morlan,  with  little  respect  either 
to  the  compliment  or  salutation. — 'Colonel  Mannering,'  (a 
low  bow  slightly  returned),  'and  Mr.  Pleydell,'  (another  low 
bow),  'I  dared  not  have  hoped  for  your  assistance  to  poor 
country  gentlemen  at  this  period  of  the  session.' 

Pleydell  took  snuff,  and  eyed  him  with  a  glance  equally 
shrewd  and  sarcastic — 'I'll  teach  him,'  he  said  aside  to 
Mannering,  'the  value  of  the  old  admonition,  Ne  accesseris 
in  consilium  antequam  voceris.' 

'But  perhaps  I  intrude,  gentlemen,'  said  Glossin,  who 
could  not  fail  to  observe  the  coldness  of  his  reception — 
'Is  this  an  open  meeting?' 


GUY    MAXNERING  467 

'For  my  part,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell.  'so  far  from  considering 
your  attendance  as  an  intrusion,  Mr.  Glossin,  I  was  never 
so  pleased  in  my  life  to  meet  with  you;  especially  as  I 
think  we  should,  at  any  rate,  have  had  occasion  to  request 
the  favour  of  your  company  in  the  course  of  the  day.' 

'Well,  then,  gentlemen,'  said  Glossin,  drawing  his  chair 
to  the  table,  and  beginning  to  bustle  about  among  the 
papers,  'where  are  we? — how  far  have  we  got?  where  arc 
the  declarations?' 

'Clerk,  give  me  all  these  papers.'  said  Mr.  Pleydell. — 'I 
have  an  odd  way  of  arranging  my  documents,  Mr.  Glossin — 
another  person  touching  them  puts  me  out ; — but  I  shall 
have  occasion  for  your  assistance  by  and  by.' 

Glossin,  thus  reduced  to  inactivity,  stole  one  glance  at 
Dirk  Hatteraick,  but  could  read  nothing  in  his  dark  scowl 
save  malignity  and  hatred  to  all  around.  'But.  gentlemen,' 
said  Glossin,  'is  it  quite  right  to  keep  this  poor  man  so 
heavily  ironed  when  he  is  taken  up  merely  for  examina- 
tion ?' 

This  was  hoisting  a  kind  of  friendly  signal  to  the  prisoner. 
'He  has  escaped  once  before,'  said  Mac-Morlan  drily,  and 
Glossin  was  silenced. 

Bertram  was  now  introduced,  and,  to  Glossin's  confusion, 
was  greeted  in  the  most  friendly  manner  by  all  present,  even 
by  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood  himself.  He  told  his  recollections 
of  his  infancy  with  that  candour  and  caution  of  expression 
which  afforded  the  best  warrant  for  his  good  faith.  'This 
seems  to  be  rather  a  civil  than  a  criminal  question,'  said 
Glossin,  rising ;  'and  as  you  cannot  be  ignorant,  gentlemen, 
of  the  effect  which  this  young  person's  pretended  parentage 
may  have  on  my  patrimonial  interest,  I  would  rather  beg 
leave  to  retire.' 

'No,  my  good  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell — 'we  can  by  no  means 
spare  you.  But  why  do  you  call  this  young  man's  claims 
pretended? — I  don't  mean  to  fish  for  your  defences  against 
them,  if  you  have  any,  but ' 

'Mr.  Pleydell.'  replied  Glossin,  'I  am  always  disposed  to 
act  above-board,  and  I  think  I  can  explain  the  matter  at 
once.  This  young  fellow,  whom  I  take  to  be  a  natural  son 
of  the  late  Ellangowan,  has  gone  about  the  country  for  some 


468  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

weeks  under  different  names,  caballing  with  a  wretched  old 
madwoman,  who,  I  understand,  was  shot  in  a  late  scuffle, 
and  with  other  tinkers,  gipsies,  and  persons  of  that  descrip- 
tion, and  a  great  brute  farmer  from  Liddesdale,  stirring  up 
the  tenants  against  their  landlords,  which,  as  Sir  Robert 
Hazlewood  of  Hazlewood  knows ' 

'Not  to  interrupt  you,  Mr.  Glossin,'  said  Pleydell,  'I  ask 
who  you  say  this  young  man  is?' 

'Why,  I  say,'  replied  Glossin,  'and  I  believe  that  gentle- 
man' (looking  at  Hatteraick)  'knows,  that  the  young  man 
is  a  natural  son  of  the  late  Ellangowan  by  a  girl  called 
Janet  Lightoheel,  who  was  afterwards  married  to  Hewit 
the  shipwright,  that  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Annan. 
His  name  is  Godfrey  Bertram  Hewit,  by  which  name  he  was 
entered  on  board  the  Royal  Caroline  excise  yacht.' 

'Aye?'  said  Pleydell, — ''that  is  a  very  likely  story! — 
but,  not  to  pause  upon  some  difference  of  eyes,  complexion, 
and  so  forth — be  pleased  to  step  forward,  sir.' — A  young 
seafaring  man  come  forward. — 'Here,'  proceeded  the  coun- 
sellor, 'is  the  real  Simon  Pure — here's  Godfrey  Bertram 
Hewit.  arrived  last  night  from  Antigua  via  Liverpool,  mate 
of  a  West  Indian,  and  in  a  fair  way  of  doing  well  in  the 
world,  although  he  came  somewhat  irregularly  into  it.' 

While  some  conversation  passed  between  the  other  justices 
and  this  young  man,  Pleydell  lifted  from  among  the  papers 
on  the  table  Hatteraick's  old  pocket-book.  A  peculiar  glance 
of  the  smuggler's  eye  induced  the  shrewd  lawyer  to  think 
there  was  something  here  of  interest.  He  therefore  con- 
tinued the  examination  of  the  papers,  laying  the  book  on  the 
table,  but  instantly  perceived  that  the  prisoner's  interest  in 
the  research  had  cooled. — 'It  must  be  in  the  book  still,  what- 
ever it  is,'  thought  Pleydell ;  and  again  applied  himself  to  the 
pocket-book,  until  he  discovered,  on  a  narrow  scrutiny,  a 
slit  between  the  pasteboard  and  leather,  out  of  which  he 
drew  three  small  slips  of  paper.  Pleydell  now,  turning  to 
Glossin.  'requested  the  favour  that  he  would  tell  them  if  he 
had  assisted  at  the  search  for  the  body  of  Kennedy,  and  the 
child  of  his  patron,  on  the  day  when  they  disappeared.' 

'I  did  not — that  is — I  did,'  answered  the  conscience-struck 
Glossin. 


GUY    MANNER  I NG  469 

'It  is  remarkable,  though,'  said  the  advocate,  'that,  con- 
nected as  you  were  with  the  EUangowan  family,  I  don't 
recollect  your  being  examined,  or  even  appearing  before  me, 
while  that  investigation  was  proceeding?' 

'I  was  called  to  London.'  answered  Glossin,  'on  most  im- 
portant business,  the  morning  after  that  sad  affair.' 

'Clerk,'  said  Pleydell,  "minute  down  that  reply. — I  presume 
the  business.  Mr.  Glossin,  was  to  negotiate  these  three  bills, 
drawn  by  you  on  Messrs.  Yanbeest  and  Vanbruggen.  and 
accepted  by  one  Dirk  Hatteraick  in  their  name,  on  the  very 
day  of  the  murder.  I  congratulate  you  on  their  being 
regularly  retired,  as  I  perceive  they  have  been.  I  think  the 
chances  were  against  it.'  Glossin's  countenance  fell.  'This 
piece  of  real  evidence,'  continued  Mr.  Pleydell.  'makes  good 
the  account  given  of  your  conduct  on  this  occasion  by  a 
man  called  Gabriel  Faa.  whom  we  have  now  in  custody,  and 
who  witnessed  the  whole  transaction  between  you  and  that 
worthy  prisoner — Have  you  any  explanation  to  give  ?' 

'Mr.  Pleydell.'  said  Glossin,  with  great  composure.  'I 
presume,  if  you  were  my  counsel,  you  would  not  advise 
me  to  answer  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment  to  a  charge, 
which  the  basest  of  mankind  seem  ready  to  establish  by 
perjury.' 

'My  advice.'  said  the  counsellor,  'would  be  regulated  by 
my  opinion  of  your  innocence  or  guilt.  In  your  case.  I 
believe  you  take  the  wisest  course ;  but  you  are  aware  you 
must  stand  committed?' 

'Committed? — for  what,  sir?'  replied  Glossin;  'upon  a 
charge  of  murder?' 

'No;  only  as  art  and  part  of  kidnapping  the  child.' 

'That  is  a  bailable  offence.' 

'Pardon  me,'  said  Pleydell,  'it  is  plagium,  and  plagium  is 
felony.' 

'Forgive  me.  Mr.  Pleydell ; — there  is  only  one  case  upon 
record,  Torrence  and  Waldie.  They  were,  you  remember, 
resurrection-women,  who  had  promised  to  procure  a  child's 
body  for  some  young  surgeons.  Being  upon  honour  to  their 
employers,  rather  than  disappoint  the  evening  lecture  of  the 
students,  they  stole  a  live  child,  murdered  it,  and  sold  the 
body  for  three  shillings  and  sixpence. — They  were  hanged, 


4T0 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 


but  for  the  murder,  not  for  the  plagium.^  Your  civil  law 
has  carried  you  a  little  too  far.' 

'Well,  sir; — but,  in  the  meantime,  Mr.  Mac-Morlan  must 
commit  you  to  the  county  jail,  in  case  this  young  man  repeats 
the  same  story. — Officers,  remove  Mr.  Glossin  and  Hat- 
teraick,  and  guard  them  in  different  apartments.' 

Gabriel,  the  gipsy,  was  then  introduced,  and  gave  a  dis- 
tinct account  of  his  deserting  from  Captain  Pritchard's 
vessel  and  joining  the  smugglers  in  the  action;  detailed  how 
Dirk  Hatteraick  set  fire  to  his  ship  when  he  found  her  dis- 
abled, and  under  cover  of  the  smoke  escaped  with  his  crew 
and  as  much  goods  as  they  could  save,  into  the  cavern, 
Avhcre  they  proposed  to  lie  till  nightfall.  Hatteraick  him- 
self, his  mate  Vanbeest  Brown,  and  three  others,  of  whom 
the  declarant  was  one,  went  into  the  adjacent  woods  to 
communicate  with  some  of  their  friends  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. They  fell  in  with  Kennedy  unexpectedly,  and  Hat- 
teraick and  Brown,  aware  that  he  was  the  occasion  of  their 
disasters,  resolved  to  murder  him.  He  stated,  that  he  had 
seen  them  lay  violent  hands  on  the  officer,  and  drag  him 
through  the  woods,  but  had  not  partaken  in  the  assault,  nor 
witnessed  its  termination.  That  he  returned  to  the  cavern 
by  a  different  route,  where  he  again  met  Hatteraick  and  his 
accomplices ;  and  the  captain  was  in  the  act  of  giving  an 
account  how  he  and  Brown  had  pushed  a  huge  crag  over, 
as  Kennedy  lay  groaning  on  the  beach,  when  Glossin  sud- 
denly appeared  among  them.  To  the  whole  transaction  by 
which  Hatteraick  purchased  his  secrecy  he  was  witness. 
Respecting  young  Bertram  he  could  give  a  distinct  account 
till  he  went  to  India,  after  which  he  had  lost  sight  of  him 
until  he  unexpectedly  met  with  him  in  Liddesdale.  Gabriel 
Faa  further  stated,  that  he  instantly  sent  notice  to  his  aunt 
Meg  Merrilies,  as  well  as  to  Hatteraick,  who  he  knew  was 
then  upon  the  coast ;  but  that  he  had  incurred  his  aunt's 
displeasure  upon  the  latter  account.  He  concluded,  that  his 
aunt  had  immediately  declared  that  she  would  do  all  that  lay 
in  her  power  to  help  young  Ellangowan  to  his  right,  even 
if  it  should  be  by  informing  against  Dirk  Hatteraick;  and 

'  This    is,    in    its    circumstances    and    issue,    actually    a    case    tried    and 
reported. 


GUY    MANNERING  471 

that  many  of  her  people  assisted  her  besides  himself,  from 
a  belief  that  she  was  gifted  with  supernatural  inspirations. 
With  the  same  purpose,  he  understood,  his  aunt  had  given 
to  Bertram  the  treasure  of  the  tribe,  of  which  she  had  the 
custody.  Three  or  four  gipsies,  by  the  express  command  of 
Meg  Merrilies,  had  mingled  in  the  crowd  when  the  Custom- 
house was  attacked,  for  the  purpose  of  liberating  Bertram, 
which  he  had  himself  effected.  He  said,  that  in  obeying 
Meg's  dictates  they  did  not  pretend  to  estimate  their  pro- 
priety or  rationality;  the  respect  in  which  she  was  held  by 
her  tribe  precluding  all  such  subjects  of  speculation.  Upon 
further  interrogation,  the  witness  added,  that  his  aunt  had 
always  said  that  Harry  Bertram  carried  that  round  his  neck 
which  would  ascertain  his  birth.  It  was  a  spell,  she  said, 
that  an  Oxford  scholar  had  made  for  him,  and  she  possessed 
the  smugglers  with  an  opinion,  that  to  deprive  him  of  it 
would  occasion  the  loss  of  the  vessel, 

Bertram  here  produced  a  small  velvet  bag,  which  he  said 
he  had  worn  round  his  neck  from  his  earliest  infancy,  and 
which  he  had  preserved, — first  from  superstitious  reverence, 
— and  latterly,  from  the  hope  that  it  might  serve  one  day 
to  aid  in  the  discovery  of  his  birth.  The  bag  being  opened, 
was  found  to  contain  a  blue  silk  case,  from  which  was 
drawn  a  scheme  of  nativity.  Upon  inspecting  this  paper, 
Colonel  Mannering  instantly  admitted  it  was  his  own  com- 
position, and  afforded  the  strongest  and  most  satisfactory 
evidence,  that  the  possessor  of  it  must  necessarily  be  the 
young  heir  of  Ellangowan,  by  avowing  his  having  first 
appeared  in  that  country  in  the  character  of  an  astrologer. 

'And  now,'  said  Plej'dell,  'make  out  warrants  of  commit- 
ment for  Hatteraick  and  Glossin  until  liberated  in  due  course 
of  law.    Yet,'  he  said,  'I  am  sorry  for  Glossin.' 

'Now,  I  think,'  said  Mannering,  'he's  incomparably  the 
least  deserving  of  pity  of  the  two.  The  other's  a  bold  fellow, 
though  as  hard  as  flint.' 

"Very  natural.  Colonel,'  said  the  advocate,  'that  you  should 
be  interested  in  the  ruffian,  and  I  in  the  knave — that's  all 
professional  taste ;  but  I  can  tell  you.  Glossin  would  have 
been  a  pretty  lawyer,  had  he  not  had  such  a  turn  for  the 
roguish  part  of  the  profession.' 


473  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Scandal  would  say,'  observed  Mannering,  'he  might  not 
be  the  worse  lawyer  for  that.' 

'Scandal  would  tell  a  lie,  then,'  replied  Pleydell,  'as  she 
usually  does.  Law's  like  laudanum;  its  much  more  easy 
to  use  it  as  a  quack  does,  than  to  learn  to  apply  it  like  a 
physician.' 


\ 


CHAPTER    LVII 

Unfit  to  live  or  die — O  marble  heart ! 
After  him,  fellov/s,  drag  him  to  the  block. 

Measure   for  Measure. 

THE  jail  at  the  county  town  of  the  shire  of  
was  one  of  those  old-fashioned  dungeons  which  dis- 
graced Scotland  until  of  late  years.  When  the  pris- 
oners and  their  guard  arrived  there,  Hatteraick,  whose  vio- 
lence and  strength  were  well  known,  was  secured  in  what 
was  called  the  condemned  ward.  This  was  a  large  apart- 
ment near  the  top  of  the  prison.  A  round  bar  of  iron, 
about  the  thickness  of  a  man's  arm  above  the  elbow, 
crossed  the  apartment  horizontally  at  the  height  of  about 
six  inches  f  rorn  the  floor ;  and  its  extremities  were  strongly 
built  into  the  wall  at  either  end.'  Hatteraick's  ankles 
were  secured  within  shackles,  which  were  connected  by 
a  chain  at  the  distance  of  about  four  feet,  with  a  large 
iron  ring,  which  travelled  upon  the  bar  we  have  described. 
Thus  a  prisoner  might  shuffle  along  the  length  of  the  bar 
from  one  side  of  the  room  to  another,  but  could  not  retreat 
further  from  it  in  any  direction  than  the  brief  length  of  the 
chain  admitted.  When  his  feet  had  been  thus  secured  the 
keeper  removed  his  handcuffs,  and  left  his  person  at  liberty 
in  other  respects.  A  pallet-bed  was  placed  close  to  the  bar  of 
iron,  so  that  the  shackled  prisoner  might  lie  down  at  pleasure, 
still  fastened  to  the  iron  bar  in  the  manner  described. 

Hatteraick  had  not  been  long  in  this  place  of  confinement, 
before  Glossin  arrived  at  the  same  prison-house.  In  respect 
to  his  comparative  rank  and  education,  he  was  not  ironed, 
but  placed  in  a  decent  apartment,  under  the  inspection  of 

'  This  mode  of  securing  prisoners  was  universally  practised  in  Scotland 
after  condemnation.  When  a  man  received  sentence  of  death,  he  was 
put  upon  the  Gad.  as  it  was  called,  that  is.  secured  to  the  bar  of  iron  in 
the  manner  mentioned  in  the  text.  The  practice  subsisted  in  Edinburgh 
till  the  old  jail  was  taken  down  some  years  since,  and  perhaps  may  be  still 
in  use. 

473 


474  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

Mac-Guffog,  who,  since  the  destruction  of  the  Bridewell  of 
Portan  ferry  by  the  mob,  had  acted  here  as  an  under-turnkey. 
When  Glossin  was  enclosed  within  this  room,  and  had  sol- 
itude and  leisure  to  calculate  all  the  chances  against  him 
and  in  his  favour,  he  could  not  prevail  upon  himself  to  con- 
sider the  game  as  desperate. 

'The  estate  is  lost/  he  said,  "that  must  go; — and,  between 
T'lcydell  and  Mac-Morlaji,  they'll  cut  down  my  claim  on  it  to 
a  trifle.  My  character — but  if  I  get  off  with  life  and  liberty, 
I'll  win  money  yet,  and  varnish  that  over  again.  I  knew 
not  the  gauger's  job  until  the  rascal  had  done  the  deed,  and 
though  I  had  some  advantage  by  the  contraband,  that  is  no 
felony.  But  the  kidnapping  of  the  boy — there  they  touch 
me  closer.  Let  me  see : — This  Bertram  was  a  child  at  the 
time — his  evidence  must  be  imperfect — the  other  fellow  is  a 
deserter,  a  gipsy,  and  an  outlaw — Meg  Merrilies,  d — n  her, 
is  dead.  These  infernal  bills  !  Hatteraick  brought  them  with 
him,  I  suppose,  to  have  the  means  of  threatening  me  or 
extorting  money  from  me.  I  must  endeavour  to  see  the  rascal 
— must  get  him  to  stand  steady — must  persuade  him  to  put 
some  other  colour  upon  the  business.' 

His  mind  teeming  with  schemes  of  future  deceit  to  cover 
former  villany,  he  spent  the  time  in  arranging  and  combining 
them  until  the  hour  of  supper.  Mac-Gufifog  attended  as 
turnkey  on  this  occasion.  He  was,  as  we  know,  the  old  and 
special  acquaintance  of  the  prisoner  who  was  now  under  his 
charge.  After  giving  the  turnkey  a  glass  of  brandy,  and 
sounding  him  with  one  or  two  cajoling  speeches,  Glossin 
made  it  his  request  that  he  would  help  him  to  an  interview 
with  Dirk  Hatteraick. — 'Impossible  !  utterly  impossible  ! — 
it's  contrary  to  the  express  orders  of  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  and 
the  captain'  (as  the  head  jailor  of  a  county  jail  is  called  in 
Scotland)  'would  never  forgie  me.' 

'But  why  should  he  know  of  it?'  said  Glossin,  slipping  a 
couple  of  guineas  into  Mac-Gufifog's  hand. 

The  turnkey  weighed  the  gold,  and  looked  sharp  at  Glossin. 
— 'Aye,  aye,  Mr.  Glossin,  ye  ken  the  ways  o'  this  place. 
Lookee,  at  lock-up  hour,  I'll  return  and  bring  ye  upstairs  to 
him — But  ye  must  stay  a'  night  in  his  cell,  for  I  am  under 
nccdcessity  to  carry  the  keys  to  the  captain  for  the  night. 


GUY   MANKERTN'G  475 

and  I  cannot  let  you  out  again  until  morning — then  I'll  visit 
the  wards  half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  and  ye  may  get 
out,  and  be  snug  in  your  ain  berth  when  the  captain  gangs 
his  rounds.' 

When  the  hour  of  ten  had  pealed  from  the  neighbouring 
steeple,  Mac-Gufifog  came  prepared  with  a  small  dark  lan- 
tern. He  said  softly  to  Glossin,  'Slip  your  shoes  off,  and 
follow  me.'  When  Glossin  was  out  of  the  door,  MacGuff^og, 
ds  if  in  the  execution  of  his  ordinary  duty,  and  speaking  to 
a  prisoner  within,  called  aloud,  'Good  night  to  you,  sir,'  and 
locked  the  door,  clattering  the  bolts  with  much  ostentatious 
noise.  He  then  guided  Glossin  up  a  steep  and  narrow  stair, 
at  the  top  of  which  was  the  door  of  the  condemned  ward; 
he  unbarred  and  unlocked  it,  and  giving  Glossin  the  lantern, 
made  a  sign  to  him  to  enter,  and  locked  the  door  behind  him 
with  the  same  affected  accuracy. 

In  the  large  dark  cell  into  which  he  was  thus  introduced, 
Glossin's  feeble  light  for  some  time  enabled  him  to  discover 
nothing.  At  length  he  could  dimly  distinguish  the  pallet-bed 
stretched  on  the  floor  beside  the  great  iron  bar  which  trav- 
ersed the  room,  and  on  that  pallet  reposed  the  figure  of  a 
man.     Glossin  approached  him — 'Dirk  Hatteraick  !' 

'Donner  and  hagel !  it  is  his  voice,'  said  the  prisoner,  sit- 
ting up  and  clashing  his  fetters  as  he  rose :  'then  my  dream 
is  true!  Begone,  and  leave  me  to  myself — it  will  be  your 
best.' 

W^hat !  my  good  friend,'  said  Glossin,  'will  you  allow  the 
prospect  of  a  few  weeks'  confinement  to  depress  your 
spirit  ?' 

Yes,'  answered  the  ruffian,  sullenly — 'when  I  am  only  to 
be  released  by  a  halter ! — Let  me  alone — go  about  your  busi- 
ness, and  turn  the  lamp  from  my  face  !' 

'Psha  !  my  dear  Dirk,  don't  be  afraid,'  said  Glossin  ;  1  have 
a  glorious  plan  to  make  all  right.' 

'To  the  bottomless  pit  with  your  plans !'  replied  his  accom- 
plice. 'You  have  planned  me  out  of  ship,  cargo,  and  life; 
and  I  dreamt  this  moment  that  Meg  Merrilies  dragged  you 
here  by  the  hair,  and  gave  me  the  long  clasped  knife  she  used 
to  wear.  You  don't  know  what  she  said — Sturm  wetter  1  it 
will  be  your  wisdom  not  to  tempt  me  !' 


476  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'But,  Hatteraick,  my  good  friend,  do  but  rise  and  speak 
to  me,'  said  Glossin. 

'I  will  not !'  answered  the  savage,  doggedly — 'you  have 
caused  all  the  mischief;  you  would  not  let  Meg  keep  the  boy 
— she  would  have  returned  him  after  he  had  forgot  all.' 

'Why,  Hatteraick,  you  are  turned  driveller !' 

'Wetter !  will  you  deny  that  all  that  cursed  attempt  at 
Portanferry,  which  lost  both  sloop  and  crew,  was  your  de- 
vice for  your  own  job?' 

'But  the  goods,  you  know ' 

'Curse  the  goods !'  said  the  smuggler, — 'we  could  have  got 
plenty  more ;  but,  der  deyvil !  to  lose  ship  and  fine  fellows, 
and  my  own  life,  for  a  cursed  coward  villain,  that  always 
works  his  own  mischief  with  other  people's  hands!  Speak 
to  me  no  more — I'm  dangerous.' 

'But,  Dirk — but,  Hatteraick,  hear  me  only  a  few  words.' 

'Hagel !  nein !' 

'Only  one  sentence.' 

'Tausand  curses  !  nein  !' 

'At  least  get  up,  for  an  obstinate  Dutch  brute !'  said  Glos- 
sin, losing  his  temper,  and  pushing  Hatteraick  with  his  foot. 

'Donner  and  blitzen  !'  said  Hatteraick,  springing  up  and 
grappling  with  him — 'you  will  have  it  then?' 

Glossin  struggled  and  resisted ;  but,  owing  to  his  surprise 
at  the  fury  of  the  assaults,  so  ineffectually,  that  he  fell  under 
Hatteraick,  the  back  part  of  his  neck  coming  full  upon  the 
iron  bar  with  stunning  violence.  The  death-grapple  con- 
tinued. The  room  immediately  below  the  condemned  ward, 
being  that  of  Glossin,  was,  of  course,  empty;  but  the  inmates 
of  the  second  apartment  beneath  felt  the  shock  of  Glossin's 
heavy  fall,  and  heard  a  noise  as  of  struggling  and  of  groans. 
But  all  sounds  of  horror  were  too  congenial  to  this  place  to 
excite  much  curiosity  or  interest. 

In  the  morning,  faithful  to  his  promise,  MacGuffog  came 
— 'Mr.  Glossin.'  said  he,  in  a  whispering  voice. 

'Call  louder,'  answered  Dirk  Hatteraick. 

'Mr.  Glossin,  for  God's  sake  come  away !' 

'He'll  hardly  do  that  without  help,'  said  Hatteraick. 

'What  are  you  chattering  there  for,  Mac-Guffog?'  called 
out  the  captain  from  below. 


GUY    MANXERTNG  477 

'Come  away,  for  God's  sake,  Mr.  Glossin !'  repeated  the 
turnkey. 

At  this  moment  the  jailor  made  his  appearance  with  a 
light,  (jreat  was  his  surprise,  and  even  horror,  to  observe 
Glossin's  body  lying  doubled  across  the  iron  bar,  in  a  posture 
that  excluded  all  idea  of  his  being  alive.  Hatteraick  was 
quietly  stretched  upon  his  pallet  within  a  yard  of  his  victim. 
On  lifting  Glossin,  it  was  found  he  had  been  dead  for  some 
hours.  His  body  bore  uncommon  marks  of  violence.  The 
spine,  where  it  joins  the  skull,  had  received  severe  injury  by 
his  first  fall.  There  were  distinct  marks  of  strangulation 
about  the  throat,  which  corresponded  with  the  blackened 
state  of  his  face.  The  head  was  turned  backward  over  the 
shoulder,  as  if  the  neck  had  been  wrung  round  with  des- 
perate violence.  So  that  it  would  seem  that  his  inveterate 
antagonist  had  fixed  a  fatal  gripe  upon  the  wretch's  throat, 
and  never  quitted  it  while  life  lasted.  The  lantern,  crushed 
and  broken  to  pieces,  lay  beneath  the  body. 

Mac-Morlan  was  in  the  town,  and  came  instantly  to  ex- 
amine the  corpse. — 'What  brought  Glossin  here?'  he  said  to 
Hatteraick. 

'The  devil !'  answered  the  ruffian. 

'And  what  did  you  do  to  him?' 

'Sent  him  to  hell  before  me,'  replied  the  miscreant. 

'Wretch!'  said  Mac-Morlan,  "you  have  crowned  a  life 
spent  without  a  single  virtue,  with  the  murder  of  your  own 
miserable  accomplice  !' 

'Virtue?'  exclaimed  the  prisoner — 'Donner !  T  was  always 
faithful  to  my  ship-owners — always  accounted  for  cargo  to 
the  last  stiver.  Hark  ye !  let  me  have  pen  and  ink,  and  I'll 
write  an  account  of  the  whole  to  our  house ;  and  leave  me 
alone  a  couple  of  hours,  will  ye — and  let  them  take  away  that 
piece  of  carrion,  donner  wetter !' 

Mac-Morlan  deemed  it  the  best  way  to  humor  the  savage ; 
he  was  furnished  with  writing  materials,  and  left  alone. 
When  they  again  opened  the  door,  it  was  found  that  this 
determined  villain  had  anticijiated  justice.  He  had  adjusted 
a  cord  taken  from  the  truckle-bed,  and  attached  it  to  a  bone, 
the  relic  of  his  yesterday's  dinner,  which  he  had  contrived  to 
drive  into  a  crevice  between  two  stones  in  the  wall,  at  a 


478  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

height  as  great  as  he  could  reach,  standing  upon  the  bar. 
Having  fastened  the  noose,  he  had  the  resokition  to  drop  his" 
body  as  if  to  fall  on  his  knees,  and  to  retain  that  posture  un- 
til resolution  was  no  longer  necessary.  The  letter  he  had 
written  to  his  owners,  though  chiefly  upon  the  business  of 
their  trade,  contained  many  allusions  to  the  younker  of 
Ellangowan,  as  he  called  him,  and  afforded  absolute  confir- 
mation of  all  Meg  Merrilies  and  her  nephew  had  told. 

To  dismiss  the  catastrophe  of  these  two  wretched  men, 
I  shall  only  add,  that  Mac-Guffog  was  turned  out  of  office, 
notwithstanding  his  declaration  (which  he  offered  to  attest 
by  oath)  that  he  had  locked  Glossin  safely  in  his  own  room 
upon  the  night  preceding  his  being  found  dead  in  Dirk  Hat- 
teraick's  cell.  His  story,  however,  found  faith  with  the 
worthy  Mr.  Skriegh,  and  other  lovers  of  the  marvellous, 
who  still  hold  that  the  Enemy  of  Mankind  brought  these  two 
wretches  together  upon  that  night,  by  supernatural  interfer- 
ence, that  they  might  fill  up  the  cup  of  their  guilt  and  receive 
its  meed,  by  murder  and  suicide. 


CHAPTER    LVIII 

To  sum  the  whole — the  close  of  all. 

Dean  Swift. 

A  S  Glossin  died  without  heirs,  and  without  payment 
Z_m  of  the  price,  the  estate  of  Ellangowan  was  again 
-A-JL  thrown  upon  the  hands  of  Mr.  Godfrey  Bertram's 
creditors,  the  right  of  most  of  whom  w'as,  however,  defeas- 
ible, in  case  Henry  Bertram  should  establish  his  character  of 
heir  of  entail.  This  young  gentleman  put  his  affairs  into  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Pleydell  and  Mr.  Mac-Morlan,  with  one  single 
proviso,  that  though  he  himself  should  be  obliged  again  to 
go  to  India,  every  debt,  justly  and  honourably  due  by  his 
father,  should  be  made  good  to  the  claimant.  Mannering, 
who  heard  this  declaration,  grasped  him  kindly  by  the  hand, 
and  from  that  moment  might  be  dated  a  thorough  under- 
standing between  them. 

The  hoards  of  Miss  Margaret  Bertram,  and  the  liberal 
assistance  of  the  Colonel,  easily  enabled  the  heir  to  make 
provision  for  payment  of  the  just  creditors  of  his  father : — 
while  the  ingenuity  and  research  of  his  law  friends  detected, 
especially  in  the  accounts  of  Glossin,  so  many  overcharges  as 
greatly  diminshed  the  total  amount.  In  these  circum- 
stances, the  creditors  did  not  hesitate  to  recognize  Bertram's 
right,  and  to  surrender  to  him  the  house  and  property  of 
his  ancestors.  All  the  party  repaired  from  Woodbourne  to 
take  possession,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  tenantry  and  the 
neighbourhood;  and  so  eager  was  Colonel  Mannering  to 
superintend  certain  improvements  which  he  had  recom- 
mended to  Bertram,  that  he  removed  with  his  family  from 
Woodbourne  to  Ellangowan,  although  at  present  containing 
much  less  and  much  inferior  accomodation. 

The  poor  Dominie's  brain  w'as  almost  turned  with  joy  on 
returning  to  his  old  habitation.  He  posted  upstairs,  taking 
three  steps  at  once,  to  a  little  shabby  attic,  his  cell  and  dor- 
mitory in  former  days,  and  which  the  possession  of  his  much 

479 


480  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

superior  apartment  at  Woodbourne  had  never  banished 
from  his  memory.  Here  one  sad  thought  suddenly  struck 
the  honest  man — the  books — no  three  rooms  in  Ellangowan 
were  capable  to  contain  them.  While  this  qualifying  reflec- 
tion was  passing  through  his  mind,  he  was  suddenly  sum- 
moned by  Mannering  to  assist  in  calculating  some  propor- 
tions relating  to  a  large  and  splendid  house,  which  was  to  be 
built  on  the  site  of  the  New  Place  of  Ellangowan,  in  a  style 
corresponding  to  the  magnificence  of  the  ruins  in  its  vicinity. 
Among  the  various  rooms  in  the  plan,  the  Dominie  observed, 
that  one  of  the  largest  was  entitled  The  Library;  and  close 
beside  was  a  snug  well-proportioned  chamber,  entitled,  Mr. 
Sampson's  Apartment.  —  'Prodigious,  prodigious,  pro- 
digious !'  shouted  the  enraptured  Dominie. 

Mr.  Pleydell  had  left  the  party  for  some  time;  but  he  re- 
turned, according  to  promise,  during  the  Christmas  recess 
of  the  courts.  He  drove  up  to  Ellangowan  when  all  the  fam- 
ily were  abroad  but  the  Colonel,  who  was  busy  with  plans 
of  buildings  and  pleasure-grounds,  in  which  he  was  well 
skilled,  and  took  great  delight. 

"Ah,  ha!'  said  the  counsellor — 'so  here  you  are!  Where 
are  the  ladies?    Where  is  the  fair  Julia?' 

'Walking  out  with  young  Hazlewood,  Bertram,  and  Cap- 
tain Delaserre,  a  friend  of  his,  who  is  with  us  just  now. 
They  are  gone  to  plan  out  a  cottage  at  Derncleugh.  Well, 
have  you  carried  through  your  la\y  business?' 

'With  a  wet  finger,'  answered  the  lawyer;  'got  our  young- 
ster's special  service  retoured  into  chancery.  We  had  him 
served  heir  before  the  macers.' 

'Macers?  who  are  they?' 

"Why,  it  is  a  kind  of  judicial  Saturnalia.  You  must  know^ 
that  one  of  the  requisites  to  be  a  macer,  or  officer  in  attend- 
ance upon  our  supreme  court,  is,  that  they  shall  be  men  of 
no  knowledge.' 

'Very  well !' 

'Now,  our  Scottish  legislature,  for  the  joke's  sake,  I  sup- 
pose, have  constituted  those  men  of  no  knowledge  into  a 
peculiar  court  for  trying  questions  of  relationship  and  de- 
scent, such  as  this  business  of  Bertram,  which  often  involve 
the  most  nice  and  complicated  questions  of  evidence.' 


GUY    MANXERIXG  481 

'The  devil  they  have? — I  should  think  that  rather  incon- 
venient,' said  Mannering. 

"Oh,  we  have  a  practical  remedy  for  the  theoretical  absurd- 
ity. One  or  two  of  the  judges  act  upon  such  occasions  as 
prompters  and  assessors  to  their  own  door-keepers.  But  you 
know  what  Cujacius  says,  Mnlta  sunt  in  moribus  dissentanea. 
multa  sine  rationed  However,  this  Saturnalian  court  has 
done  our  business;  and  a  glorious  batch  of  claret  we  had 
afterwards  at  Walker's — Mac-Morlan  will  stare  when  he 
sees  the  bill.' 

'Never  fear/  said  the  Colonel ;  'we'll  face  the  shock,  and 
entertain  the  county  at  my  friend  Mrs.  Mac-Candlish's  to 
boot.' 

'And  choose  Jock  Jabos  for  your  master  of  horse?'  replied 
the  lawyer. 

'Perhaps  I  may.' 

'And  where  is  Dandie,  the  redoubted  Lord  of  Liddesdale  ?' 
demanded  the  advocate. 

'Returned  to  his  mountains;  but  he  has  promised  Julia 
to  make  a  descent  in  summer,  with  the  goodwife,  as  he  calls 
her,  and  I  don't  know  how  many  children,' 

'Oh,  the  curly-headed  varlets! — I  must  come  to  play  at 
Blind  Harry  and  Hy  Spy  with  them.— But  what  is  all  this  ?' 
added  Pleydell  taking  up  the  plans; — 'tower  in  the  centre 
to  be  an  imitation  of  the  Eagle  Tower  at  Caernarvon— 
Corps  dc  logis — the  devil — wings — wings?  why,  the  house 
will  take  the  estate  of  Ellangowan  on  its  back,  and  fly  away 
with  it !' 

'Why,  then,  we  must  ballast  it  with  a  few  bags  of  Sicca 
rupees,'  replied  the  Colonel. 

'Aha!  sits  the  wind  there?  Then  I  suppose  the  young 
dog  carries  off  my  mistress  Julia  ?' 

'Even  so,  counsellor.' 

'These  rascals,  the  post-nati,  get  the  better  of  us  of  the 
Did  school  at  every  turn,'  said  Mr.  Pleydell.  'But  she  must 
convey  and  make  over  her  interest  in  me  to  Lucy.' 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  afraid  your  flank  will  be  turned 
there  too,'  replied  the  Colonel. 

'Indeed?' 

*  The  siriRular  inconsistency  hinted  ^*  1=  nnw.  in  a  great  degree,  removed. 


482  SIR    WALTER    SCOTT 

'Here  has  been  Sir  Robert  Hazlewood,'  said  Mannering, 
'upon    a    visit    to    Bertram,    thinking,    and    deeming,    and 


'O   Lord !    pray   spare   me   the   worthy  baronet's   triads !' 

'Well,  sir,'  continued  Mannering;  'to  make  short,  he 
conceived  that  as  the  property  of  Singleside  lay  like  a  wedge 
between  two  farms  of  his,  and  was  four  or  five  miles  sep- 
arated from  EUangowan,  something  like  a  sale,  or  exchange, 
or  arrangement  might  take  place,  to  the  mutual  convenience 
of  both  parties/ 

'Well,  and  Bertram — ' 

'Why,  Bertram  replied,  that  he  considered  the  original  set- 
tlement of  Mrs.  Margaret  Bertram  as  the  arrangement  most 
proper  in  the  circumstances  of  the  family,  and  that  therefore 
the  estate  of  Singleside  was  the  property  of  his  sister.' 

'The  rascal !'  said  Pleydell,  wiping  his  spectacles,  "he'll 
steal  my  heart  as  well  as  my  mistress — Et  puis?' 

'And  then  Sir  Robert  retired,  after  many  gracious  speeches ; 
but  last  week  he  again  took  the  field  in  force,  with  his  coach 
and  six  horses,  his  laced  scarlet  waistcoat,  and  best  bob  wig 
— all  very  grand,  as  the  good-boy  books  say.' 

'Ah  !  and  what  was  his  overture  ?' 

'Why  he  talked  in  great  form  of  an  attachment  on  the 
part  of  Charles  Hazlewood  to  Miss  Bertram.' 

'Aye,  aye;  he  respected  the  little  god  Cupid  when  he  saw 
him  perched  on  the  Dun  of  Singleside.  And  is  poor  Lucy  to 
keep  house  with  that  old  fool  and  his  wife,  who  is  just  the 
knight  himself  in  petticoats?' 

'No — we  parried  that.  Singleside-House  is  to  be  repaired 
for  the  young  people,  and  to  be  called  hereafter  Mount 
Hazlewood.' 

'And  do  you  yourself.  Colonel,  propose  to  continue  at 
Woodbourne?' 

'Only  till  we  carry  these  plans  into  efifect.  See,  here's  the 
plan  of  my  bungalow,  with  all  convenience  for  being  separate 
and  sulky  when  I  please.' 

'And  being  situated,  as  I  see,  next  door  to  the  old  castle, 
you  may  repair  Donagild's  tower  for  the  nocturnal  contem- 
plation of  the  celestial  bodies?    Bravo,  Colonel !' 

'No,  no,  my  dear  counsellor  !    Here  ends  The  Astrologer.' 


NOTES 

Note   i. — Groaning  Malt  and  Ken-no,  p.  44 

The  groaning  melt  mentioned  in  the  text  was  the  ale  brewed  for 
the  purpose  of  being  drunk  after  the  lady  or  goodwife's  safe  delivery. 
The  ken-no  has  a  more  ancient  source,  and  perhaps  the  custom  may 
be  derived  from  the  secret  rites  of  the  Bona  Dea.  A  large  and  rich 
cheese  was  made  by  the  women  of  the  family,  with  great  affectation 
of  secrecy,  for  the  refreshment  of  the  gossips  who  were  to  attend 
at  the  canny  minute.  This  was  the  ken-no,  so  called  because  its 
existence  was  secret  (that  is,  presumed  to  be  so)  from  all  the  males 
of  the  family,  but  especially  from  the  husband  and  master.  He  was, 
accordingly,  expected  to  conduct  himself  as  if  he  knew  of  no  such 
preparation,  to  act  as  if  desirous  to  press  the  female  guests  to  refresh- 
ments, and  to  seem  surprised  at  their  obstinate  refusal.  But  the 
instant  his  back  was  turned,  the  ken-no  was  produced ;  and  after  all 
had  eaten  their  fill,  with  a  proper  accompaniment  of  the  groaning 
malt,  the  remainder  was  divided  among  the  gossips,  each  carrying  a 
large  portion  home  with  the  same  affectation  of  great  secrecy. 

Note  2. — Mump's  Ha',  p.  171 

It  is  fitting  to  explain  to  the  reader  the  locality  described  in  this 
chapter.  There  is,  or  rather  I  should  say  there  '^vas,  a  little  inn, 
called  Mump's  Hall, — that  is,  being  interpreted,  Beggar's  Hotel, — 
near  to  Gilsland,  which  had  not  then  attained  its  present  fame  as  a 
Spa.  It  was  a  hedge  alehouse,  where  the  Border  farmers  of  either 
country  often  stopped  to  refresh  themselves  and  their  nags,  in  their 
way  to  and  from  the  fairs  and  trysts  in  Cumberland,  and  especially 
those  who  came  from  or  went  to  Scotland,  through  a  barren  and 
lonely  district,  without  either  road  or  pathway,  emphatically  called 
the  Waste  of  Bewcastle.  At  the  period  when  the  adventures  described 
in  the  novel  are  supposed  to  have  taken  place,  there  were  many  in- 
stances of  attacks  by  freebooters  on  those  who  travelled  through  this 
wild  district ;  and  Mump's  Ha'  had  a  bad  reputation  for  harbouring 
the  banditti  who  committed  such  depredations. 

An  old  and  sturdy  yeoman  belonging  to  the  Scottish  side,  by  sur- 
name an  Armstrong  or  Elliott,  but  well  known  by  his  sobriquet  of 
Fighting  Charlie  of  Liddesdale,  and  still  remembered  for  the  courage 
he  displayed  in  the  frequent  frays  which  took  place  on  the  Border 
fifty  or  sixty  years  since,  had  the  following  adventure  in  the  Waste, 
which  suggested  the  idea  of  the  scene  in  the  text : — 

483 


484.  NOTES 

Charlie  had  been  at  Stagshaw-bank  fair,  had  sold  his  sheep  or 
cattle  or  whatever  he  had  brought  to  market,  and  was  on  his  return 
to  Liddesdale.  There  were  then  no  country  banks  where  cash  could 
be  deposited  and  bills  received  instead,  which  greatly  encouraged 
robbery  in  that  wild  country,  as  the  objects  of  plunder  were  usually 
fraught  with  gold.  The  robbers  had  spies  in  the  fair,  by  means  of 
whom  they  generally  knew  whose  purse  was  best  stocked,  and  who 
took  a  lonely  and  desolate  road  homeward, — those,  in  short,  who 
were  best  worth  robbing,  and  likely  to  be  most  easily  robbed. 

All  this  Charlie  knew  full  well ; — but  he  had  a  pair  of  excellent 
pistols,  and  a  dauntless  heart.  He  stopped  at  Mump's  Ha',  notwith- 
standing the  evil  character  of  the  place.  His  horse  was  accommo- 
dated where  it  might  have  the  necessary  rest  and  feed  of  corn;  and 
Charlie  himself,  a  dashing  fellow,  grew  gracious  with  the  landlady,  a 
buxom  quean,  who  used  all  the  influence  in  her  power  to  induce  him 
to  stop  all  night.  The  landlord  was  from  home,  she  said,  and  it  was 
ill  passing  the  Waste,  as  twilight  must  needs  descend  on  him  before 
he  gained  the  Scottish  side,  which  was  reckoned  the  safest.  But 
Fighting  Charlie,  though  he  suffered  himself  to  be  detained  later  than 
was  prudent,  did  not  account  Mump's  Ha'  a  safe  place  to  quarter  in 
during  the  night.  He  tore  himself  away,  therefore,  from  Meg's  good 
fare  and  kind  words,  and  mounted  his  nag,  having  first  examined 
his  pistols,  and  tried  by  the  ramrod  whether  the  charge  remained 
in  them. 

He  proceeded  a  mile  or  two,  at  a  round  trot,  when,  as  the  Waste 
stretched  black  before  him,  apprehensions  began  to  awaken  in  his 
mind,  partly  arising  out  of  Meg's  unusual  kindness,  which  he  could 
not  help  thinking  had  rather  a  suspicious  appearance.  He  therefore 
resolved  to  reload  his  pistols,  lest  the  powder  had  become  damp ; 
but  what  was  his  surprise,  when  he  drew  the  charge,  to  find  neither 
powder  nor  ball,  while  each  barrel  had  been  carefully  filled  with  tow, 
up  to  the  space  which  the  loading  had  occupied  !  and,  the  priming 
of  the  vi'eapons  being  left  untouched,  nothing  but  actually  drawing 
and  examining  the  charge  could  have  discovered  the  inefficiency  of 
his  arms  till  the  fatal  minute  arrived  when  their  services  were 
required.  Charlie  bestowed  a  hearty  Liddesdale  curse  on  his  land- 
lady, and  reloaded  his  pistols  with  care  and  accuracy,  having  now 
no  doubt  that  he  was  to  be  waylaid  and  assaulted.  He  was  not  far 
engaged  in  the  Waste,  which  was  then,  and  is  now,  traversed  only 
by  such  routes  as  are  described  in  the  text,  when  two  or  three  fellows, 
disguised  and  variously  armed,  started  from  a  moss-hag,  while,  by 
a  glance  behind  him  (for,  marching,  as  the  Spaniard  says,  with  his 
beard  on  his  shoulder,  he  reconnoitred  in  every  direction),  Charlie 
instantly  saw  retreat  was  impossible,  as  other  two  stout  men  appeared 
behind  him  at  some  distance.  The  Borderer  lost  not  a  moment  in 
taking  his  resolution,  and  boldly  trotted  against  his  enemies  in  front, 
who  called  loudly  on  him  to  stand  and  deliver.  Charlie  spurred  on, 
and  presented  his  pistol.  'D — n  your  pistol !'  said  the  foremost 
robber,  whom  Charlie  to  his  dying  day  protested  he  believed  to  have 
been  the  landlord  of  Mump's  Ha' — 'D — n  your  pistol !  I  care  not  a 


NOTES  48.5 

curse  for  it.' — 'Aye,  lad,'  said  the  deep  voice  of  Fighting  Charlie, 
'but  the  tow's  out  noxv.'  He  had  no  occasion  to  utter  another  word  : 
the  rogues,  surprised  at  finding  a  man  of  redoubted  courage  well 
armed,  instead  of  being  defenceless,  took  to  the  moss  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  he  passed  on  his  way  without  further  molestation. 

The  author  has  heard  this  story  told  by  persons  who  received  it 
from  Fighting  Charlie  himself  ;  he  has  also  heard  that  Mump's  Ha' 
was  afterwards  the  scene  of  some  other  atrocious  villany,  for  which 
the  people  of  the  house  suffered.  But  these  are  all  tales  of  at  least 
half  a  century  old,  and  the  Waste  has  been  for  many  years  as  safe 
as  any  place  in  the  kingdom. 

Note  3. — Dandie  Dinmont,  p.  184 

The  author  may  here  remark,  that  the  character  of  Dandie  Din- 
mont was  drawn  from  no  individual.  A  dozen,  at  least,  of  stout 
Liddesdale  yeomen  with  whom  he  has  been  acquainted,  and  whose 
hospitality  he  has  shared  in  his  rambles  through  that  wild  country, 
at  a  time  when  it  was  totally  inaccessible  save  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed in  the  text,  might  lay  claim  to  be  the  prototype  of  the  rough, 
but  faithful,  hospitable,  and  generous  farmer.  But  one  circumstance 
occasioned  the  name  to  be  fixed  upon  a  most  respectable  individual 
of  this  class,  now  no  more.  Mr.  James  Davidson  of  Hindlee,  a 
tenant  of  Lord  Douglas,  besides  the  points  of  blunt  honesty,  personal 
strength,  and  hardihood,  designed  to  be  expressed  in  the  character  of 
Dandie  Dinmont,  had  the  humour  of  naming  a  celebrated  race  of 
terriers  which  he  possessed,  by  the  generic  names  of  Mustard  and 
Pepper  (according  as  their  colour  was  yellow,  or  greyish-black) 
without  any  other  individual  distinction,  except  as  according  to  the 
nomenclature  in  the  text.  Mr.  Davidson  resided  at  Hindlee,  a  wild 
farm  on  the  very  edge  of  the  Teviotdale  mountains,  and  bordering 
close  on  Liddesdale,  where  the  rivers  and  brooks  divide  as  they 
take  their  course  to  the  Eastern  or  Western  seas.  His  passion  for 
the  chase  in  all  its  forms  but  especially  for  fox-hunting,  as  followed 
in  the  fashion  described  in  the  next  chapter,  in  conducting  which 
he  was  skilful  beyond  most  men  in  the  South  Highlands,  was  the 
distinguishing  point  in  his  character. 

When  the  tale  on  which  these  comments  are  written  became  rather 
popular,  the  name  of  Dandie  Dinmont  was  generally  given  to  him, 
which  Mr.  Davidson  received  with  great  good  humour. — only  saying, 
while  he  distinguished  the  author  by  the  name  applied  to  him  in 
the  country,  where  his  own  is  so  common — 'that  the  Sheriff  had  not 
written  about  him  mair  than  about  other  folk,  but  only  about  his 
dogs.'  An  English  lady  of  high  rank  and  fashion,  being  desirous 
to  possess  a  brace  of  the  celebrated  Mustard  and  Pepper  terriers, 
expressed  her  wishes  in  a  letter,  which  was  literally  addressed  to 
Dandie  Dinmont,  under  which  very  general  direction  it  reached  Mr. 
Davidson  who  was  justly  proud  of  the  application,  and  failed  not  to 
comply  with  a  request  which  did  him  and  his  favourite  attendants 
so  much  honour. 


486  NOTES 

I  trust  I  shall  not  be  considered  as  offending  the  memory  of  a 
kind  and  worthy  man,  if  I  mention  a  little  trait  of  character  which 
occurred  in  Mr.  Davidson's  last  illness.  I  use  the  words  of  the 
excellent  clergyman  who  attended  him,  who  gave  the  account  to  a 
reverend   gentleman   of  the   same   persuasion  : — 

'I  read  to  Mr.  Davidson  the  very  suitable  and  interesting  truths 
you  addressed  to  him.  He  listened  to  them  with  great  seriousness, 
and  has  uniformly  displayed  a  deep  concern  about  his  soul's  salvation. 
He  died  on  the  first  Sabbath  of  the  year  (1820)  ;  an  apoplectic  stroke 
deprived  him  in  an  instant  of  all  sensation,  but  happily  his  brother 
was  at  his  bedside,  for  he  had  detained  him  from  the  meeting-house 
that  day  to  be  near  him,  although  he  felt  himself  not  much  worse 
than  usual. — So  you  have  got  the  last  little  Mustard  that  the  hand  of 
Dandie  Dinmont  bestowed. 

'His  ruling  passion  was  strong  even  on  the  eve  of  death.  Mr. 
Baillie's  foxhounds  had  started  a  fox  opposite  to  his  window  a  few 
weeks  ago,  and  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  dogs  his  eyes 
glistened ;  he  insisted  on  getting  out  of  bed,  and  with  much  difficulty 
got  to  the  window,  and  there  enjoyed  the  fun,  as  he  called  it.  When 
I  came  down  to  ask  him,  he  said  "he  had  seen  Reynard,  but  had  not 
seen  his  death.  If  it  had  been  the  will  of  Providence,"  he  added, 
"I  would  have  liked  to  have  been  after  him; — but  I  am  glad 
that  I  got  to  the  window,  and  am  thankful  for  what  I  saw,  for 
it  has  done  me  a  great  deal  of  good."  Notwithstanding  these  eccen- 
tricities,' adds  the  sensible  and  liberal  clergyman,  'I  sincerely  hope 
and  believe  he  has  gone  to  a  better  world,  and  better  company  and 
enjoyments.' 

If  some  part  of  this  little  narrative  may  excite  a  smile,  it  is  one 
which  is  consistent  with  the  most  perfect  respect  for  the  simple- 
minded  invalid,  and  his  kind  and  judicious  religious  instructor,  who, 
we  hope,  will  not  be  displeased  with  our  giving,  we  trust,  a  correct 
edition  of  an  anecdote  which  has  been  pretty  generally  circulated. 
The  race  of  Pepper  and  Mustard  are  in  the  highest  estimation  at  this 
day,  not  only  for  vermin-killing,  but  for  intelligence  and  fidelity. 
Those  who,  like  the  author,  possess  a  brace  of  them,  consider  them 
as  very  desirable  companions. 

Note  4. — Lum  Cleeks,  p.  198 

The  cleek  here  intimated  is  the  iron  hook,  or  hooks,  depending 
from  the  chimney  of  a  Scottish  cottage,  on  which  the  pot  is  suspended 
when  boiling.  The  same  appendage  is  often  called  the  crook.  The 
salmon  is  usually  dried  by  hanging  it  up,  after  being  split  and 
rubbed  with  salt,  in  the  smoke  of  the  turf  fire  above  the  cleeks, 
where  it  is  said  to  reist,  that  preparation  being  so  termed.  The 
salmon,  thus  preserved,  is  eaten  as  a  delicacy,  under  the  name  of 
kipper,  a  luxury  to  which  Dr.  Redgill  has  given  his  sanction  as  an 
ingredient  of  the  Scottish  breakfast. — See  the  excellent  novel  entitled 
Marriage. 


NOTES  487 


Note  5. — Clan  Surnames,  p.  200 

The  distinction  of  individuals  by  nicknames,  when  they  possess  no 
property,  is  still  common  on  the  Border,  and  indeed  necessary,  from 
the  number  of  persons  having  the  same  name.  In  the  small  village  of 
Lustruther,  in  Roxburghshire,  there  dwelt,  in  the  memory  of  man, 
four  inhabitants,  called  Andrew,  or  Dandie,  Oliver.  They  were  dis- 
tinguished as  Dandie  Eassil-gate,  Dandie  Wassil-gate,  Dandie 
Thumbie,  and  Dandie  Dumbie.  The  two  first  had  their  names  from 
living  eastward  and  westward  in  the  street  of  the  village ;  the  third 
from  something  peculiar  in  the  conformation  of  his  thumb ;  the  fourth 
from  his  taciturn  habits. 

It  is  told  as  a  well-known  jest,  that  a  beggar- woinan,  repulsed 
from  door  to  door  as  she  solicited  quarters  through  a  village  of 
Annandale,  asked,  in  her  despair,  if  there  were  no  Christians  in  the 
place.  To  which  the  hearers,  concluding  that  she  inquired  for  some 
persons  so  surnamed,  answered,  'Na,  na,  there  are  nae  Christians 
here ;  we  are  a'  Johnstones  and  Jardines.' 

Note  6. — Gipsy  Superstitions,  p.  207 

The  mysterious  rites  in  which  Meg  Merrilies  is  described  as 
engaging,  belong  to  her  character  as  a  queen  of  her  race.  All  know 
that  gipsies  in  every  country  claim  acquaintance  with  the  gift  of 
fortune-telling ;  but,  as  is  often  the  case,  they  are  liable  to  the  super- 
stitions of  which  they  avail  themselves  in  others.  The  correspondent 
of  Blackwood,  quoted  in  the  Introduction  to  this  Tale,  gives  us 
some  information  on  the  subject  of  their  credulity. 

'I  have  ever  understood,'  he  says,  speaking  of  the  Yetholm  gipsies, 
'that  they  are  extremely  superstitious — carefully  noticing  the  forma- 
tion of  the  clouds,  the  flight  of  particular  birds,  and  the  soughing  of 
the  winds,  before  attempting  any  enterprise.  They  have  been  known 
for  several  successive  days  to  turn  back  with  their  loaded  carts, 
asses,  and  children,  on  meeting  with  persons  whom  they  considered 
of  unlucky  aspect :  nor  do  they  ever  proceed  on  their  summer  per- 
egrinations without  some  propitious  omen  of  their  fortunate  return. 
They  also  burn  the  clothes  of  their  dead,  not  so  much  from  nny 
apprehension  of  infection  being  communicated  by  them,  as  the  con- 
viction that  the  very  circumstance  of  wearing  them  would  shorten 
the  days  of  their  living.  They  likewise  carefully  watch  the  corpse 
by  night  and  day  till  the  time  of  interment,  and  conceive  that  "the 
deil  tinkles  at  the  lykewake"  of  those  who  felt  in  their  dead-thraw 
the  agonies  and  terrors  of  remorse.' 

These  notions  are  not  peculiar  to  the  gipsies ;  but  having  been 
once  generally  entertained  among  the  Scottish  common  people,  are 
now  only  found  among  those  who  are  the  most  rude  in  their  habits, 
and  most  devoid  of  instruction.  The  popular  idea,  that  the  pro- 
tracted struggle  between  life  and  death  is  painfully  prolonged  by 
keeping  the  door  of  the  apartment  shut,  was  received  as  certain  by 


488  NOTES 

the  superstitious  eld  of  Scotland.  But  neithei  was  it  to  Idc  thrown 
wide  open.  To  leave  the  door  ajar  was  the  plan  adopted  by  the  old 
crones  who  understood  the  mysteries  of  deathbeds  and  lykewakes. 
In  that  case,  there  was  room  for  the  imprisoned  spirit  to  escape ;  and 
yet  an  obstacle,  we  have  been  assured,  was  offered  to  the  entrance 
of  any  frightful  form  which  might  otherwise  intrude  itself.  The 
threshold  of  a  habitation  was  in  some  sort  a  sacred  limit,  and  the 
subject  of  much  superstition.  A  bride,  even  to  this  day,  is  always 
lifted  over  it — a  rule  derived  apparently  from  the  Romans. 

Note  7. — Tappit  Hen,  p.  315 

The  Tappit  Hen  contained  three  quarts  of  claret — 

Weel  she  lo'ed  a  Hawick  gill. 
And  leugh  to  see  a  Tappit  Hen. 

I  have  seen  one  of  these  formidable  stoups  at  Provost  Haswell's,  at 
Jedburgh,  in  the  days  of  yore.  It  was  a  pewter  measure,  the  claret 
being  in  ancient  days  served  from  the  tap,  and  had  the  figure  of  a 
hen  upon  the  lid.  In  later  times,  the  name  was  given  to  a  glass 
bottle  of  the  same  dimensions.  These  are  rare  apparitions  among 
the  degenerate  topers  of  modern  days. 

Note  8. — Convivi.\l  Habits  of  the  Scottish  Bar,  p.  316 

The  account  given  by  Mr.  Pleydell,  of  his  sitting  down  in  the 
midst  of  a  revel  to  draw  an  appeal  case,  was  taken  from  a  story  told 
me  by  an  aged  gentleman,  of  the  elder  President  Dundas  of  Arniston 
(father  of  the  younger  President,  and  of  Lord  Melville).  It  had 
been  thought  very  desirable,  while  that  distinguished  lawyer  was 
King's  counsel,  that  his  assistance  should  be  obtained  in  drawing 
an  appeal  case,  which,  as  occasion  for  such  writings  then  rarely 
occurred,  was  held  to  be  matter  of  great  nicety.  The  Solicitor  em- 
ployed for  the  appellant,  attended  by  my  informant  acting  as  his 
clerk,  went  to  the  Lord  Advocate's  chambers  in  the  Fishmarket  Close, 
as  I  think.  It  was  Saturday  at  noon,  the  Court  was  just  dismissed, 
the  Lord  Advocate  had  changed  his  dress  and  booted  himself,  and 
his  servant  and  horses  were  at  the  foot  of  the  close  to  carry  him 
to  Arniston.  It  was  scarcely  possible  to  get  him  to  listen  to  a  word 
respecting  business.  The  wily  agent,  however,  on  pretence  of  asking 
one  or  two  questions,  which  would  not  detain  him  half  an  hour, 
drew  his  Lordship,  who  was  no  less  an  eminent  ho}i  z'ii^aut  than  a 
lawyer  of  unequalled  talent,  to  take  a  whet  at  a  celebrated  tavern, 
when  the  learned  counsel  became  gradually  involved  in  a  spirited 
discussion  of  the  law  points  of  the  case.  At  length  it  occurred  to 
him,  that  he  might  as  well  ride  to  Arniston  in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 
The  horses  were  directed  to  be  put  in  the  stable,  but  not  to  be 
unsaddled.  Dinner  was  ordered,  the  law  was  laid  aside  for  a  time, 
and  the  bottle  circulated  very  freely.     At  nine  o'clock  at  night,  after 


NOTES  489 

he  had  been  honouring  Bacchus  for  so  many  hours,  the  Lord  Advocate 
ordered  his  horses  to  be  unsaddled, — paper,  pen.  and  ink  were 
brought — he  began  to  dictate  the  appeal  case — and  continued  at  his 
task  till  four  o'clock  the  next  morning.  By  next  day's  post,  the 
solicitor  sent  the  case  to  London,  a  chcf-d'auvrc  of  its  kind,  and  in 
which,  my  informant  assured  me,  it  was  not  necessary  on  revisal  to 
correct  five  words.  I  am  not,  therefore,  conscious  of  having  over- 
stepped accuracy  in  describing  the  manner  in  which  Scottish  lawyers 
of  the  old  time  occasionally  united  the  worship  of  Bacchus  with  that 
of  Themis.  My  informant  was  Alexander  Keith,  Esq.,  grandfather 
to  my  friend,  the  present  Sir  Alexander  Keith  of  Ravelstone,  and 
apprentice  at  the  time  to  the  writer  who  conducted  the  cause. 

Note  9. — Gipsy  Cookery,  p.  376 

We  must  again  have  recourse  to  the  contribution  to  Blackwood's 
Magazine,  April,   1817: — 

'To  the  admirers  of  good  eating,  gipsy  cookery  seems  to  have  little 
to  recommend  it.  I  can  assure  you,  however,  that  the  cook  of  a 
nobleman  of  high  distinction,  a  person  who  never  reads  even  a 
novel  without  an  eye  to  the  enlargement  of  the  culinary  science,  has 
added  to  the  Almanach  des  Gourmands  a  certain  Potage  a  la  Meg 
Merrilies  de  Derncleugli,  consisting  of  game  and  poultry  of  all  kinds, 
stewed  with  vegetables  into  a  soup,  which  rivals  in  savour  and 
richness  the  gallant  messes  of  Camacho's  wedding;  and  which  the 
Baron  of  Bradwardine  would  certainly  have  reckoned  among  the 
Eptilac   lautiores.' 

The  artist  alluded  to  in  this  passage  is  Mons.  Florence,  cook  to 
Henry  and  Charles,  late  Dukes  of  Buccleuch,  and  of  high  distinction 
in  his  profession. 

Note  10. — Lawyers'  Sleepless  Nights,  p.  403 

It  is  probably  true,  as  observed  by  Counsellor  Pleydell,  that  a 
lawyer's  anxiety  about  his  case,  supposing  him  to  have  been  some 
time  in  practice,  will  seldom  disturb  his  rest  or  digestion.  Clients 
will,  however,  sometimes  fondly  entertain  a  different  opinion.  I  was 
told  by  an  excellent  judge,  now  no  more,  of  a  country  gentleman, 
who,  addressing  his  leading  counsel,  my  informer,  then  an  advocate 
in  great  practice,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  the  case  was 
to  be  pleaded,  said,  with  singular  bonhomie,  'Weel,  my  lord,'  (the 
counsel  was  Lord  Advocate)  'the  awful  day  is  come  at  last.  I  have 
nae  been  able  to  sleep  a  wink  for  thinking  of  it — nor,  I  dare  say, 
your   lordship  either.' 


GLOSSARY 


a  secretis,  lit.  'officer  of  the  secrets'; 

as      one      acquainted      with       the 

secrets. 
ab    hora    guestiojiis,    from    the    very 

beginning. 
acromion,    the    outer    extremity    of 

ti.e    shoulder-blade. 
aiblins,    perhaps. 
ance  errand,   on   purpose. 
aiit   Qiiocunane  alio  nomine   vocaris, 

or    by    whatever    other   name    you 

are    called. 
awmous,   alms. 

ballant,  ballad. 
banes,    bones. 
barken,  harden. 

barroiv-tram,      shaft      of      a      wheel- 
barrow. 
baulks,    banks,    ridges    of    land,    and 

the    uncultivated    spaces    between. 
beau    garfon,    gallant,    man    of    the 

world. 
bedral,   beadle,   grave-digger. 
ben  the  house,  into  the  inner  room. 
berlings.    vessels. 
bested,   troubled,    beset. 
bields,   shelters. 
big,  build. 
biggit,    built. 
birling,   drinking. 
bit.   small. 

bittled,  beaten   with  a   wooden   bat. 
black  be  iiis  cast,  evil  be  his  late. 
blate.    diffident,   bashful. 
blearing    your   ee,   throwing    dust    in 

your   eye. 
blumen-garten,   flower  garden. 
blunker,    calico-printer. 
boddle,   small    copper   coin. 
bogles,   bogies,   goblins. 
bonhomie,    kindliness,    simplicity. 
bountith,      bovinty,      amount      given 

above    the    stipulated    wages. 
bourtrce-bush,    elder-bush. 
bow.  boll   (dry  measure). 
brocks,  badgers. 
brod.   plate. 
brood      mare,      a      mare      kept      for 

breeding. 
buirdly.    strong,  active. 
bully-huff,     a     boasting     fellow,      a 

bully. 

cabriole,  a  small  one-horse  carriage. 
caird,   tinker. 


callant,    lad. 

canny,    fortunate,    careful,    safe. 

canty,   lively,    cheerful. 

capuchin,    cloak    with    a    hood. 

change-houses,    small    alehouses. 

chcerer.    a    glass    of    hot    spirits    and 

water. 
chield,    fellow. 
circumduce.     draw     a    circle     round, 

limit. 
clashes,   gossip,    tittle-tattle,    scandal. 
clavicle,   the   collar-bone. 
clod,  to,  to  throw   violently. 
clour,  a  blow,   a  bump  on  the  head 

from   a  blow. 
coena.  supper,  late  dinner. 
coft.    bought. 
collie  shangies,    quarrels. 
congees,   bows 

conjuro,      abjuro.     contestor.     atque 
viriliter    impero    tibi,    I    command, 
I    adjure.    1    invoke    and    mightily 
put     forth     authority     over     thee. 
(Abjuro   is   an    error   for   adjttro.') 
conjuro     te.     scelestisslma  —  nequis- 
sima  —  spurcissima  —  iniqiiissi»ia 
— atque    miserrima- — conjuro   te f — 
I    command    thee,    most    infamous, 
most     wicked,     most     foul,     most 
shameful,      and      most      unhappy 
woman,    I    command   thee! 
corps    de    logis,    block    of    building3. 
cottar,  cottager. 
cot-house,  cottage. 
coup,   upset. 

coup  de  main,  sudden  action. 
coup  d'iril,  glance,   view. 
cracks,   gossip. 
craig,   rock,   neck. 
cranking,    twisting,    winding. 
crappit  ■  heads,        stuffed        haddock- 
heads. 
cuddy,   donkey. 
cusser,  stallion. 
CHstos     Totulorutn,     keeper     of     the 

rolls   or   records   of   a   court. 
cutlugged,    crop-eared. 
cutty,  a  short  horn   spoon. 

das   schmeckt.   that   tastes   good. 
dead-thraw.    death-agony. 
defeat,   tired   ovit. 
deil-be-lickit.    devil    be   blowed. 
dies  inceptus,  a   day   begun. 


D— 17 


491 


492 


GLOSSARY 


ding,   beat,   knock. 

disponing,  assigning. 

donnert,    stupid. 

dooket,   pigeon-house. 

dooms,  very. 

doos,  doves  or  pigeons. 

dow,  to  be  able,  to  like. 

dree,   endure. 

drumming,    to    expel    from    a    place 

with    sound    of   drum. 
dust,   disturbance. 

eclaircissement,  explanation,  dec- 
laration. 

eilding,  fuel. 

emprcssenient.    eagerness. 

en  croupe,  behind  the   saddle. 

enfant    trouve,    foundling. 

es   spiickt   da,   it   haunts   there. 

et  puis,  and   then. 

ex  cathedra,  from  the  chair;  with 
authority. 

exorciso  te,   I   exorcise  thee. 

fair-strae   death,   natural    death. 

far  yaud,  a  cry  of  encouragement 
to  a   sheep-dog. 

fa's,   falls,   befalls. 

fash,   trouble. 

faste,   display. 

faitld-dike,   wall   of  a   sheep-fold. 

feck,   part. 

feiftecn,  the  judges  of  the  supreme 
court    of    session. 

fell.    skin. 

fell  chield.  terrible  fellow. 

feras  consuniere  nati,  born  to  de- 
stroy   wild   beasts. 

ferme  ornce,  amateur  farm. 

fiar.  one  who  has  the  reversion  of 
property. 

fie  man.  a  man  seized  by  that  mad- 
ness which  overcomes  those  pre- 
destined   to    death. 

fient  a   haet,   devil   a   bit. 

fikitig,   fidgeting. 

firlot.  a  fourth  part  of  a  boll  of 
corn. 

fit,  foot,  step. 

ftisking,  flitting. 

friar's  chicken,  eggs  boiled  with 
chicken    broth. 

fumarts,  polecats. 

gae-down,    a    drinking    bout. 
galls    the    kibe,    treads    on    the    chil- 
blain. 
gangrel,   vagrant. 
gar.  compel. 

gate,   gait,    way,    manner. 
ganger,    exciseman. 
gey  bit,  a  considerable  way. 
Hiff-gaff,  tit    for  tat. 
gliffing.   gliff ,    an   instant,   a   glimpse. 
glim,   light. 
goose's    gazette,    cock-and-bull    story. 


gowans,  daisies. 

greet,  cry. 

grew,  shudder. 

griego,   a   short   cloak. 

guisarding,  mumming. 

gnmphions,   funeral   banners. 

gyre-carlings,   witches,   weird   sisters. 

hafRin,   half-grown. 

hallan,  a  partition  between  the  door 
of   a   cottage   and    the   fireplace. 

hansel  Monanday,  the  Monday  fol- 
lowing  New   Year's  Day. 

hansels,  gifts. 

hantle,  great  many,  great  deal. 

hap,  cover  up,   tuck  in. 

hauden,   held. 

heckle,  to  hackle,  to  separate  the 
coarse  part  of  hemp  from  the 
fine. 

hecsie,   hoist. 

hiniiey.  honey  (a  term  of  endear- 
ment). 

hirsel,  a  flock  of  sheep,  to  creep 
down. 

hiscie,    hussy. 

hold  mich  der  deyvil,  Ich  bin  gans 
gcfrorne.  Devil  take  me,  I  am 
absolutely    frozen. 

homme  d'affaires,     man   of  business. 

horse-coupers .    horse-dealers. 

houdie,   midwife. 

hou'k,   to  dig. 

howm.    flat    ground,    hollow. 

hnmdndgeon.    noise,    outcry. 

hunt-the-gowk,    wild-goose    chase. 

ich  bin  ganz  gefrorne,  I  am  abso- 
lutely   frozen. 

in  praesentia,  in   presence. 

in  rcrum  natura,  in  the  world  of 
things,   alive. 

indicia,   information,    evidence. 

ingatts,   onions. 

inner-house,  a  Scottish  court  of 
law. 

inter   nos,   between  ourselves. 

jaw-hold,  sink. 

jo.  joe,  sweetheart. 

jurisconsult,   lawyer. 

kibe,   chilblain. 

killogie,    fire-place    of    a    lime-kiln. 

kilt,   to   upset,   to   tuck  up. 

kinchin,   child,   baby. 

hinder,   children. 

kist.   chest,    trunk,    coffin. 

kittle,   ticklish,    capricious. 

knevelled,   beaten,   kneaded. 

lachesse,  idleness,  carelessness. 
lair,    learning. 

land-louper,  vagabond,  runigate. 
lang-lugged       limmer,        long  -  eared 
wench. 


GLOSSARY 


493 


latch,   mire. 

Ictter-gae,   church   precentor,   clerk. 

lippen.    trust. 

lith,  a  joint,  a  limb. 

loan,    lane,    pathway. 

loon,   young   man   or   young   woman 

of   doubtful    character. 
/ok/",  leap. 
low,  flame. 
lugs.   ears. 
I'un    vaitt    bicn    I'autre,    one    is    as 

good   as  the  other. 
lunt,  blaze,  burn. 
lust-haus,    pleasure-house. 
lykewake,    watch    kept    over   a    dead 

body. 

major  vis,   greater   strength. 

make  not,   do  not  interfere. 

malcfica,    evildoing. 

maroon  war,  guerilla  war  (Maroon 
— an   escaped   negro   slave). 

mati»dering,  talking  idly,  palaver- 
ing. 

mcssan,  a  cur,  a  smill   dog. 

mirk    Monanday,    black    Monday. 

moidores,  a  Portuguese  coin,  worth 
about   37s. 

nwnitoire,  summons  read  in  church 
for  information  about  a  crime  on 
pain    of    excommunication. 

moonshie,  instructor. 

tnortis    causa,    in    prospect   of    death. 

mortmain,  settlement  by  a  de- 
ceased   person. 

multa  sunt  in  moribus  dissentanea, 
tnulta  sine  rationc,  there  are 
many  contradictory,  many  un- 
reasonable   things    in    customs. 

mutchkin,  the  fourth  part  of  fhe 
old  Scots  pint,  or  about  three- 
quarters  of  an  imperial  pint. 

ne  accesseris  in  consilium  antcquam 
voceris.  do  not  come  to  the  coun- 
cil  till   you   are   summoned. 

nc  moveas  Camerinam,  do  not  move 
Camerina. 

neque  semper  arcum  tendit  Apollo, 
nor  does  Apollo  always  keep  his 
bow    bent. 

niffering,   bargaining. 

niff-naffy.     troublesome,     fastidious. 

no    canny,    not    lucky. 

noctes  cocnacque,  nights  and  sup- 
pers. 

nolens   volens,    unwilling   or   willing. 

non  valens  agere,  not  able  to  per- 
form   my    part. 

novns  homo,  a  self-made  man,  a 
parvenu. 

odd-come-shortly,  some  day  or  other 

in   the   near   future. 
on    n'arrcte    pas    dans    un    si    beau 


chemin,    one    does   not    stop   short 
"^in    so    pleasant    a    path. 
oportet   vivere,  we   must   live. 
orra,    odd,    unemployed. 
OS    rotnndum,    sonorous    voice. 

paiks,   blows,   a   beating. 

pariahs,     outcasts,     those     belonging 

to  the  lowest  class  in   India. 
peculium,    private    amount. 
peenging,  whining. 
peine    forte    et    dure,    a    great    and 

lasting      pain      (viz.      pressing     to 

death   with  great  weights). 
periapts,    charms. 
pickle,   small   quantity. 
pirn,   a   reel. 
pit  ower,  last  through. 
plagium,   kidnapping. 
Plainte     dc      Tournclle,     a     French 

chamber  for   rigorous  inquiry   into 

criminal    cases. 
pocks,    pouch,    bag. 
post-nati,    the   later-born,    the    young 

people. 
pouches,   pockets. 
powny,    pony. 
prigged,    pleaded    earnestly,    haggled 

over  a  bargain. 
proper,       of      the      natural       colour 

(heraldic). 
prout  de  lege,  according  to  law. 

quean,  a  young  woman,   wench. 
quorum,    the    justices,    from    a   word 

in      the      commission      appointing 

them. 

randlc-trcc.    a    wild    creature. 

randy,   wild,    disorderly. 

ranging    and    riping,     scouring     and 

searching. 
rappee,  snuff. 
rectus    in   curia,    cleared    before    the 

law. 
redding    his    quarrel,    taking    part    in 

his   quarrel. 
regis   ad   exemplar,    after   the    king's 

example. 
rcif.  robbery. 
rcisc.   twig,   branch. 
ripe  his  pouches,  search  his  pockets. 
rottcns,  rats. 
roturier,  a  plebeian. 
roupit,  sold  by  auction. 

sain,  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross, 

to  bless. 
sark.    shirt. 
saugh,   willow. 
saulics,    hired    mourners. 
sa-'oir  faire.   resourcefulness. 
scart.    scratch. 

scrlcratissima,    most   wicked. 
scelestissima,   most   infamous. 


494 


GLOSSARY 


screed,  a  long  tirade,  a  piece  of 
cloth   torn    off,    a    frolic. 

secundum  artem.  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  art. 

sederunt,  a  sitting  (in  the  legal 
sense). 

shake-rag.    tatterdemalion. 

shcalings,    cottages. 

shears,    divides. 

sib.   related   by   blood. 

skeel,  skill. 

slack,  a  dry  hollow,  an  opening  be- 
tween   two    hills. 

slap,  a  breach. 

sliftgs,  a  rope  or  iron  band  for 
securing  the  centre  of  a  yard  to 
the  mast. 

slowhuitds,   sleuth-hounds. 

smack,  a  paltry  rogue,  a  silly  fellow. 

sort,   manage,   set  to   rights. 

spae,  to  foretell. 

span-counter,  a  game  in  which  a 
piece  of  money  is  won  by  throw- 
ing another  within  a  span  of  it. 

spavin,  swelling  causing  lameness 
in   a  horse. 

spa-f-well.  a  magic  well. 

specr,  ask. 

splores,  frolics,   riots. 

sprug,   sparrow. 

spunk,   a  match,   a  fire. 

standish,   inkstand. 

steek,  a  stitch,  to  close. 

stickit  stihblcr.  an  unqualified  cleri- 
cal  probationer. 

stirks,  young  steers. 

strafe  mich  hcllc,  an  oath.  Hell 
take  me. 

strcik,   stretch. 

sturc,    stern,   strong. 

sui  juris,  a  free  man,  lit.  at  one's 
own   disposal. 

sunkie.   stool. 

suuin  cuique  tribuito,  give  to  each 
his  due. 


tailzie,   deed   of    entail. 

tait,  a  lock  of  wool. 

take  tent,  give  attention. 

tass,  cup,  glass. 

teind,   tithe. 

temforc  Caroli  Priini.  in  the  time 
of   Charles   I. 

tested,  witnessed. 

thrapple,    throat. 

threeps,   declares,   threatens. 

tod,    fox. 

toom,   empty. 

tota  re  pcrspecta,  all  things  con- 
sidered. 

troking,  bartering,  do  business  with. 

Tros   Tyriusvc.   Trojan   or  Tyrian. 

tuihic,    a    brawl,    scrimmage. 

tup,  a  ram. 

tweel,  web. 

u.nca  ■wark.  a  great  ado. 
unco,   strange,  very. 

varium  et  mutabilc.  varying  and 
changeful. 

rcrbnm  nolens,  an  unintentional  ex- 
clamation. 

'iis  publica  et  privata,  violence  pub- 
lic and   private. 

wale,   choice. 
wame,  stomach. 
'<va's.    walls. 

water-kelpy,   water-sprite. 
weird's  dreed,   fate  is   fulfilled. 
wci~e.   direct,   guide. 
whccn.  whin,  a  number. 
whigging,   jogging,   urging   forwarS. 
whinger,   a   hanger    used   as   a   knife 

at   meals   or  in   brawls. 
whiffrets,   weasels. 
worriecows.   hobgoblins,    scarecrows. 
wuss,  wish. 

yards,  playgrounds  at  the  colleges. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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